


You remember burning cigarettes in my skin?

by Ziamismyotp



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Insecurities, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Slow Build, because i love zarry, brief smut but at least it's still there, excessive use of commas, form of self harm, some heavy angst man, sue me, there's some heavy Zarry brotp, zayn!centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziamismyotp/pseuds/Ziamismyotp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How’d it start?”</p><p>Zayn wipes at his cheeks and stares at the carpet while he speaks. “Everything… everything was good at first, yeah? Great even, I can’t exactly pinpoint when things got bad. It all happened to slowly for me to actually pick up. It… it just started with the small insults and some yelling but like, it just got worse and then it was all to late.”</p><p>(Or where Zayn made it out of a bad relationship alive but you never come out of those things completely unscratched, do you?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You remember burning cigarettes in my skin?

**Author's Note:**

> So it has come to my attention that i have a very big thing with angsty victim Zayn. I mean like I have like three other angst Zayn centrics and countless other ones saved in my documents. I swear i can't write a complete fluff for my life. 
> 
> But yeah, this is a slow build, i like to try and make these things as realistic as i can. There's forms of self harm in this and mentions of past abuse, it might be triggering so read at your own risk. It's nothing too intense, i don't think but i just wanted to give some warning. Also, if there's any other tags you think i should add just let me know. I don't want anyone heading into this without knowing the risks first.
> 
> And yeah, so if any of you are wondering why i haven't updated my other pieces it's because i've been working on this little bastard. Seriously, this was suppose to be at least 10,000 max and look what the hell happened. I got carried away. But i hope you like it! i worked hard on this, i hope it's good and now i'm sad because, what do i do with myself now? This was life for like, 2 weeks.
> 
> Oh, and another warning, it starts out pretty freaking angsty but it gets better so don't let the beginning scare you off!
> 
> All mistakes are my own and i do not own one direction or any of the characters besides the ones i made up. This is strictly fiction so... yeah.

He tosses his shirt, stands in front of the mirror. His fingers prod his ribs, the way they stick out and his hands graze over his chest, over the taut skin of his hips and he can't help but cringe. His hands lift, his fingers stretching and running along his face, over his eyes that are dull and sunken in, hovering above deep purple bags from years of stress and insomnia. He touches his lips that are always chapped, rough and unappealing. His eyebrows, so thick, like two bushy tails taking up his forehead.

His shoulders too bony, his elbows to sharp, his arms too wiry, his legs too thin.

He hardly eats, so there's the problem right there. If he eats- but he can't, can't bring himself to.

And he sinks to the floor.

He stares at his reflection, blinks at himself, moves his limbs but nothing feels real. It’s quiet, he can hear the slightest noise, a tap on his window sill from the birds who took refuge on the tree branches last week. The rustling of his Lizard, Arnie, moving throughout his cage. But through the quiet, his thoughts are loud in his head, his own voice telling him he isn’t good enough, worthless, his own voice and eyes catching every mistake and flaw on his body and telling him he’ll never be perfect, no where near.

His skin crawls and itches, he wants to peel it off, rearrange his every inch and pray that the end results look better than before-better than _this_.

The fabric of his briefs cling to his skinny thighs, the only material he kept on when he locked himself in his room and stripped from his work uniform because he can’t look at what's underneath, the secrets littering his skin, without wanted to give himself more.

Small tears gather in his eyes, roll down his cheeks, ones he doesn’t notice until they capture on his top lip and slip through the smallest crevice between his pursed lips. They touch his tongue, salty and bitter, filled with his pain and exhaustion.

His chest tightens and his stomach twists, his pulse racing as he stares hard at himself, ridicules and questions his worth. His hands fold, forming fists as more tears fill his eyes, making his vision blurry and he’s so, _so_ tempted to smash the mirror, shatter the glass because of his hate for the view it’s providing him. His hate for himself. Smash himself into millions of pieces.

His anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach, pulses through his veins and in the white of tense knuckles. His nails dig into the palm of his hand but he hardly feels it, hardly notices the liquid trickling down his bent fingers and dripping to the floor.

It’s silent besides his own rugged breathing and he wonders where Harry might be, when he’ll be home. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants Harry to come home.

 

::::::::

 

His knees are pulled to his chest, his back pressed against one of the cold walls of his room, dampening with his sweat. It’s dark but he stares across from him anyway, stares at what he knows contains part of his torture and he should probably look away, not dwell on an unfortunate past but he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s just _there,_  whispering his name. Seep and sinister, _his_ voice.

And he wants to sob, wants to tear at his imperfect skin, scream at the world and beg _why_  but he also doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to feel. And he doesn’t feel. Doesn’t feel anything but anger, deep seeded anger and a dark sadness that pulls him under, that paralyses his muscles and cripples the pumps of his heart. A sadness he is accustom too, one he’s grown fond of, that he doesn’t know what he would do if it was to suddenly disappear. Sadness has grown to be his friend, something that never leaves his side, always there, wrapped around him, in him, everywhere he is, everything he is. A feeling outside of sadness is something he doesn’t want to touch, something new and dangerous, something that can be taken away and that scares him; terrifies him. Sadness can’t be taken away. Maybe hidden, buried away but it’s always there, will always resurface. Never dies.

He hears a door open, keys dropping onto what he can only guess is the counter. His name is called. Once. Twice. Thrice. But he doesn’t answer. Can’t find his voice, his throat is dry, tight and he can’t speak. So he continues to dig and drag his nails along his thighs, scraping and burning and waits for his door to be opened because it will be. Always is. Because Harry, somehow, always knows.

“Zayn?” His door creaks open, light shedding into his room and he squeezes his eyes shut, refuses to see the surroundings of his room that the light reveals because it’s marked with reminders, with _his_ damage and harsh words and stinging hand prints.

“Oi, Zayn.” Harry says quietly, his voice _pitying_  and Zayn cringes. He can hear the frown that is probably pulling down Harry's face, can imagine the boys bright green eyes dimming as they fall on his folded form, his forehead creasing with worry lines.

Footsteps echo off his walls, coming closer and closer to him but he doesn’t move, keeps his head bowed and his eyes shut. He hates to see the worry, the sorrow in Harry’s eyes.

The footsteps stop and he peaks out from the corner of his eyes, watches as Harry slides down the wall next to him. “C’mere.” he says and lifts his arms, wraps them around Zayn’s bare shoulders and pulls him into his side. Zayn goes willingly, wants to fight, insist on Harry leaving his room but he doesn’t. Doesn’t have the energy. Or the desire.

But he does mumble a weak, “ ‘m fine.” But Harry doesn’t respond, only holds him tighter and presses his lips to his temple. Zayn sighs into it, relaxes and curls into Harry’s chest, fights the urge to cry, to crumble but his body refuses to stop trembling.

“You’re okay.” Harry whispers into his tangled hair. “ ‘m here and you’re okay.” and Zayn wants so hard to believe it but his heart-or what’s left of it- is cracking, screaming as it slows, shrivels, dies.

“He’s gone and you’re okay.”

 

::::::::

 

“Louis is coming by tomorrow, bringing a few mates from his classes. Cool lads, he says.” Harry tells him, his voice quiet, verging a whisper that hardly breaks the silence.

They’re in his bed now. Zayn’s bed. Harry on the right, the spot he took over when Zayn refused to lay there simply because it reminded him, still smelt of _him_.

Zayn lays on the left, pressed into Harry’s side, his face buried in his neck, his legs tangled with Harry’s own. His arm rests carelessly on top of Harry’s stomach and he breathes in Harry’s cologne for comfort, security but it’s that cheap one that hardly smells as pleasant as the more expensive, fancy looking one. But Harry saves that one for his dates and important events, or whatever Harry deems is an important event but most of the time they're just Uni parties.

“Who are they?” He asks, words slightly muffled by Harry’s button up.

“Dunno.” he says. “Do you mind, though? Cause, like, if you do I can tell Lou not to bring them. I mean, I know how on edge you are since… that and just-”

“Christ, Harry,” He cuts off, annoyed. “I’m not scared of everything with two legs and muscles. They can come over, I’ll be fine.” He says, running his fingers along Harry’s side subconsciously.

“I just worry, ‘s all.” Harry tells him softly, reaching down and taking Zayn’s hand, the one that had been tickling his side, and linking their fingers.

“You don’t have too, I can take care of myself.” He says but his tone hold no spite, it’s soft and he squeezes Harry’s hand in case the boy thought otherwise.

“If you say so.”

Zayn lifts his head quickly at that, sits up, his eyes pinched and his hand ripping from Harry’s hold. “What’s that suppose to mean.” He hisses, his eyes challenging Harry to explain those words. Daring him to say what Zayn knows is at the tip of his tongue, always, everyday.

“Nothing, love. C’mon, lay down.” Harry urges and Zayn glares for a few more seconds before dropping his weight, with force intending to harm, back onto Harry. The boys breathe hitches and Zayn smiles small, satisfied.

 

::::::::

  
He runs his hands over the wet skin of his thighs, feels the crevices and the puffed skin. Runs his fingers along the thin marks, over the longer ones, over the thicker ones. He scratches at scabs, picks at them until they fall off his skin either reopening wounds and drawing blood or revealing pink healed skin, risen much like the other scars.

Lukewarm water pours onto his head, matting his hair to his forehead and drenching his bare body. He continues to pick.

“Zayn!” Knocking echoes off the shower walls. “Louis will be here soon! Gotta get out!” Harry calls through the door. Zayn doesn’t answer, stares blankly at his own blood mixing with the water, blending and slipping down the drain before muttering, “Waters cold anyway.” And standing up, shutting off the water and shaking out his hair.

He grabs his towel, wraps it around his waist and exit’s the bathroom, padding through the hall and to his door, sliding inside and dropping the towel to the floor. He pulls on a pair of blue boxer briefs laid out on his bed, along with black joggers and a white t shirt, undeniably Harry’s work because Zayn never lays out his clothes before taking a shower. He usually just rummages through his closet and throws on whatever he gets his hands on and doesn’t smell too rank.

He scratches the short scruff along his jaw before slipping on black socks and a beanie because he’d be damned if he did his hair with no where to go. He examines the healed gash that cuts right through his ZAP tattoo, rubs at it with a pathetic wish that it would erase away but it’s futile so he slips on a jumper to cover the thin gash and two old scars that extend across both his wrists and exits his room.

“Tea or coffee?” Harry calls from the kitchen. He turns around, looks over the counter, takes one look at Zayn’s face and puts his hands up in defense. “Okay, stupid question, I know. Coffee it is.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, fights away the fond and drops onto the couch, bringing up his knees, taking one of the throw pillows and squeezing it between his chest and thighs as he flips through the channels of his television.

“Cream or milk? How many spoons of sugar?”

“Seriously, Haz?” Zayn drawls, rolling his eyes when Harry’s laugh travels through the apartment.

“Alright, just bugging you now.”

After a few minutes Zayn finds one of those Pirate movies with Johnny Depp in it and leaves it at that, watching as Jack sparrow looses his balls while his rum burns.

Harry comes over seconds later with two mugs in his hands, handing Zayn the one he got him for his birthday last year, a cartoon Spiderman printed on the white background saying some stupid pun that is actually quite clever but he wont admit that to Harry since he came up with the damn pun. The mug is customized and he refuses to go along with Harry’s ridiculous attempts at humor.

“Coffee for you, black with no sugar, no cream, no milk, completely bitter and tasteless just as you like it.” Harry grins and Zayn takes a nice long sip before setting the mug down on the coffee table. “Don’t know how you can drink that, it’s bloody awful.”

“Black coffee for a black soul, Hazza.” He jokes, shrugging and Harry scuffs and sits on the recliner, propping his feet on the glass as he drinks his own tea. “Oi, feet off you animal, that thing cost more than your car.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest but then there’s a knocking on the front door, a special beat hitting the wood followed by loud shouting and it’s clear who is causing all the obnoxious noise. “I’ll get it.” Harry announces, rolling his eyes and placing his tea next to Zayn’s drinks.

“Well, I wasn’t planning too.” Zayn responds and leans forward, ignores Harry sticking his tongue out and takes his coffee. He opens his legs, positions them criss cross and fixes the pillow on his lap, setting his coffee on that with his hands wrapped around it so it wont fall.

He doesn’t pay attention to all the noise coming from the hallway, keeps his eyes focused on the telly, on Jack Sparrow because he loves these movies, loves Johnny Depp and he doesn’t love whatever is going on at his front door. Loathes all the ruckus actually. He hates noise, loud noises specially. He prefers a peaceful environment where you can hear a pin drop as you reads an interesting book and drink a hot cuppa.

“So you’re not even going to acknowledge me? Seriously Malik, someone outta teach you some manners.” Zayn feels a small smile twitch his lips, shakes his head before looking up at his annoying but insanely awesome friend, scratch that, best friend aside from Harry.

“Hi, Lou.”

“Is that how your smile looks? I’ve always assumed it’d be something more twisted, sinister even.” Louis scrunches his noise, gives a thoughtful look that Zayn snorts at.

“Shove off, Louis.” Louis grins, drops himself onto the empty spot on Zayn’s right. “Oi, watch the coffee!” He grumbles, holding his drink up to be sure it doesn’t spill.

“Gross, is that your black coffee? Disgusting, mate, I pity your taste buds.” Louis tisks, shaking his head disapprovingly before dropping it onto the pillow on Zayn’s lap.

“I should poor the damn thing in your face.” He retorts, hovering the cup over Louis’ head teasingly, laughing softly when he squeals.

“Don’t you dare!” Louis yells, throwing his hands over his face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lou.” he replies.

“Have you two quite finished?” Harry’s voice cuts in.

“Hey!” Louis interrupts, pointing a finger at Harry with a disapproving pout. “No. Mine.”

Harry roles his eyes before continuing. “Louis, would you like to introduce us to your friends?” Zayn looks up, suddenly remembering that Louis bought friends along. His eyes fall on a blonde with brown roots and rosy cheeks and deep blue eyes, ones that are all bright and clear and friendly. He’s smiling, his eyes holding amusement as he watches on. He’s cute enough, Zayn decides. Nice body, strong shoulders that are revealed by the cut off sleeves he’s wearing. Not necessarily his type but attractive nonetheless.

The boy standing next to him, taller and wider, catches his attention though. In a different way.

He’s not looking directly at Zayn, more at Louis cuddled on his lap so that gives Zayn time to observe without being caught staring and being tacked as a creep. And so he observes.

He’s got broad shoulders, big biceps, not crazy big but a size that looks like he can knock you out with one easy blow to the face (okay that’s kind of big). His waist is slim and his legs are long, toned like he runs a lot. It’s difficult to tell from the distance, the color of his eyes exactly but it looks like he has brown eyes. They look as if they’re a normal brown from here but maybe up close they possess hints of other colors, maybe gold like Zayn’s or maybe a shade of green that matches Harry’s own eye color. He wants to get closer, find out for sure.

He has a strong jaw, a biggish nose that’s kind of adorable actually, soft cheeks and a pair of thick eyebrows. His lips are quite the sight, plump and red like he’s bitten them one to many times. But maybe it’s natural. His brown hair is styled as well, gelled into a shorter imitation of Zayn’s usual quiff and it’s nice, it works.

Overall he’s kind of gorgeous and now Zayn’s feeling very self conscious of his own appearance. It’s bad enough when he’s alone but now that his flat holds the beauty of this stranger, he feels grotesque.

His eyes lift, meet Zayn’s own with a smile on his lips and Zayn’s breathe hitches, his heart skipping a beat. He looks away, stares at his hands and tries not to feel to insecure under the strangers gaze.

He’s a sight Zayn wouldn’t mind seeing again but would hate to be around any longer. So he hardly gives the stranger anymore thought for the sake of his own ridiculously low self esteem and also because developing a crush on this guy, something he can very much see happening right now, is not something he’s in the right position to deal with. Rejection, something he can’t quite handle right now.

He returns his attention back to the seen, watches as Louis waves Harry off, turning around to bury his face in Zayn’s stomach and bring his knees to his chest. “You’re more then capable of introducing yourselves.” He says, his words muffled but still understandable.

“You’d be a horrible host.” Zayn says while placing his coffee back on the coffee table and running his fingers through Louis’ fringe.

“Which is why I bought them here, you’re way better at this interacting thing then I am.”

Harry snorts from the distance and says, “Did you forget who your talking to, Louis? Zayn’s the most socially challenged person on the planet.”

Zayn scuffs. “Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Don’t make me look back in front of the guest.”

“He’s right, Harry, he can do that on his own.”

“Alright, off you go.” he demands, shoves at Louis’ shoulder and successfully rolling him onto the floor.

“Oi!” Louis squeals as he collides with the rugs. “Fucking, twat!” Zayn laughs quietly, his first honest laugh in a long time and though it’s small, hardly heard, more huffs of air from his nostrils then pounding sounds from deep in his belly, it feels kind of nice.

“I’m Harry.” Harry announces suddenly and Zayn smothers his laughs, bites his cheeks to minimize his smile as he watches Harry extend his hand to the blonde one then the brunette.

“Ha, funny. You’re Harry and you’ve got that hair goin’ on. I’m Niall.” The blonde one says and when Zayn says Harry’s face lights up, he means full Christmas tree lights and shinning sun.

“You’re Irish! He’s Irish!” Harry shouts, directing his excitement to Zayn and Zayn just rolls his eyes, holds back his fond.

“That I am, bro.”

“Are you Irish, too?” Harry asks, directing his question to the brunette this time.

The boy shakes his head, smiling. “Sorry, mate, just plain British, I am.”

Oh god, his voice is warm, deep and smooth and Zayn hasn’t heard a voice so attractive and sweet like candy since _his_. But _his_ voice was only sweet when he was whispering empty promises and fake apologizes into Zayn’s ear in the dead of the night when Zayn was curled in on himself and trembling, terrified. And the sweet was only sickening, only made his stomach twist and a lump clog his throat.

“Ah, me too!” Harry pipes, ripping Zayn from his thoughts. “So what’s your name then, muscles?”

The boys laughs, heavy and deep before he outstretches his hand and says, “ ‘m Liam.”

 _Liam, Liiiam, Leeeyum,_  Zayn repeats the name in his head, gets a taste of it on his tongue before deciding that yeah, he likes that name. A lot actually.

“Liam, nice. Well Niall, Liam, welcome to mine and Zayn’s humble abode. Make yourselves comfortable. Would anyone enjoy a cuppa?”

Louis, who is now sitting besides Zayn but paying him no mind-which he thinks will cause Zayn distress but it’s actually a relief- raises his hand. “Me, darling!”

“I’d take one too, if ya don’t mind.” Niall says, sitting on the recliner across from Zayn, the one Harry occupied minutes ago. Harry still swoons at Niall’s accent, causing Niall to chuckle. Zayn is, though, kind of worried Harry might be offending Niall. Though the boy looks far from offended.

“What about you, Liam? Fancy a cup?” Zayn finds himself asking before he can so much as think. It’s just, Harry is busy asking Niall to repeat shit and no one had asked Liam is he wanted something to drink yet and he is part host so it just seemed like the proper thing to do. Plus, he kind of wanted the chance to say _Liam_ out loud.

“Nah, I had one before we came.” Liam answers, smiling at Zayn with white teeth and crinkled eyes and Zayn has to look away, can’t keep Liam’s gaze without feeling as if Liam is noticing his every flaw. There’s so many.

“Well, orders in and I’ll be back.” Harry announces, clasping his hands before turning on his heels and heading off to the kitchen. They fall into a silence after that, the tv playing as background noise and Louis finally caves, slumps and falls into Zayn’s side, dropping his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Little Harry, so sweet.” Louis murmurs, his eyes falling shut and Zayn scrunches his nose, moves his head back in an awkward manner to look at the top of Louis’ head.

“Gross, swoon on the other side of the couch, please.” Louis pinches his thigh and he hisses, plays the action off as a response to being pinched instead of the fact that Louis just squeezes a fresh wound on his skin. Louis doesn’t think twice.

“Is someone jealous? Louis loves you too, Zaynie.” Louis says teasingly, puckering his lips and smacking them against Zayn’s cheeks. Zayn scrunches his nose and wipes the saliva off his cheek.

“That was really slobbery, Louis.”

“So how’d ya all meet?” Niall’s voice interrupts and Zayn looks up, his heart sinking at the question. He’s about to answer with something short and clipped when Louis throws an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and speaks for him.

“Well Zayn and Harry have been attached at hip since they were potty training but me and Zayn met at a coffee shop.” Zayn hopes he stops there, grips Louis’ arm as a hint because Louis should know but he continues anyway. “He was there with this busy looking bloke and he was being an absolute douche to Z, right in the middle of the line, may I add, and so I-”

“Tea's done.” Harry chimes, striding into the living room with two more mugs in his hands. He hands one to Louis and the other to Niall and Zayn internally thanks Harry for having good timing. He plops down on the other side of Zayn, leaning forward with clasp hands as he asks, “So, what’re we talking ‘bout?”

“How me and Zayn met.” Louis answers, scowling a little and Zayn guesses it’s because Harry interrupted him and Louis doesn’t like being interrupted.

“Oh.” Harry says before his eyes widen. “ _Oh_.” And he seems to catch on. “Did you tell them how we met, Lou? Great story, it is, go ahead, tell’um.”

And Louis does. Goes into detail about the location, the exact outfits, every word that was said and Zayn slips his fingers through Harry’s, gives them a thankful squeeze for changing the subject. Harry squeezes back and drops his head, his cheek resting on the top of Zayn’s beanie.

The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. Except Zayn couldn’t keep his eyes from wondering to Liam. Whether the boy was chatting, laughing with Harry or shoving Niall’s shoulder to throw off his game while playing Mario Kart. But every time Liam looked at him, he snapped his eyes away, played it off as if he was looking around the room. Which is kind of pathetic, he knows.

It’s just, Liam’s interesting. The way he speaks, moves, interacts with everyone. It’s a little different for each person. He’s nice towards Niall, completely comfortable, affectionate and soft. When Louis gives him shit, he gives it right back, he challenges Louis, doesn’t let his sass or attitude get to him like it would for most people. But Louis is a very touchy feely person and Liam’s as affectionate with him as he is with Niall.

Harry, he’s still a little on edge about, still careful, Zayn observes. He thinks before he speaks, moves slowly, hesitates or tenses when Harry throws an arm around him or teases him. And Zayn supposes it’s because he’s still new to Harry but Harry’s charming, Liam will warm up soon. It’s hard not too fall into Harry’s carefree attitude.

Zayn and Liam. They hardly interact and that’s probably Zayn’s own fault. He makes efforts at avoiding Liam’s eye, his questions, his movements. He’s as careful around Liam as Liam is with Harry, tiptoeing around him and sticking to Harry or Louis’ sides mostly but he has his reasons and if he’s offending Liam in anyway, well it’s not intentional.

He would like being Liam’s friend, he seems really genuine but from what he’s witnessed today, Liam is caring, friendly, careful of everyone’s feelings and that’s… Zayn has to limit their interaction now because Zayn has always fallen easy, fallen fast, blind, careless. And he has learned the hard way that that is not a good thing.

 

::::::::

 

Nights are difficult.

2:36am blinks on his alarm clock.

He lays on his side, back hunched and his knees pulled to his chest. His nails dig subconsciously into his calves, scrape from his knees to his ankles and up again. His eyes are shut, his mind growing hazy as he finally begins to drift between reality and sleep. But though his eyes are closed he can still see, can see all the memories flashing behind his eyelids. It’s silent but he hears every slap, every hit and insult echoing off his walls, screeching into his ears. And he winces, can almost feel every blow colliding with his body all over again.

He hovers over him. His face, twisted and unmerciful as he folds his fists, smirks down at him. _You deserve this._

Zayn's breathing speeds, each intake shallow and thick, every exhale shaky and wheezing. It’s hot and his heart is pounding angrily into his rib cage and beads of sweat collect on his forehead, his naked back and chest, dripping down and dampening his sheets.

His nails dig deeper into his skin, drawing blood as mumbles of _Stop, please stop_ tumble off his raw bitten lips.

More hits. More spat words, _worthless, disgusting_.

He shoots up, breathing heavily, hands flailing as he looks around the black room. He grips his sheets, tears rolling down his cheeks.

A dream. Just a dream.

Not a dream. Memories.

And he wishes Harry was here but he’s gone for the night with Louis, Niall and Liam. To some pub across town or something. He practically begged Zayn to come along but Zayn isn’t much of a partier anymore and declined. Harry put up a fight, worried about leaving Zayn alone in their flat though he wont say it aloud, already aware of how much Zayn despises it when he says that, but in the end Zayn managed to convince Harry he’d be fine alone and shoved him out the door.

But now he wishes he tried to convince Harry to stay instead so he wouldn’t be alone tonight. He considers texting Harry, ask when he’s coming home, if maybe he can come home now because his mind is blurry, dark and scary and his body wont stop shaking but he doesn’t, decides it’s selfish to worry Harry on a night out that’s suppose to be fun all because he’s prone to nightmares.

So he lays on his back, stares at the ceiling and picks at his wrist, pinching and scratching to distract himself from the thoughts racing in his head, threatening to break him tonight.

His body hurts, his temples throb and he’s so tired. Just can’t sleep. Doesn’t sleep till Harry comes home a quarter to four and shucks his clothes, climbs into his bed smelling like alcohol and sweat and drapes his long arms around him. Harry’s chest is sticky against his skin but he still finds comfort in his friends hold.

 

::::::::

 

A week later he’s curled on the couch, wrapped in a blue fuzzy blanket because he’s cold and too lazy to get up and higher the thermometer. There’s a cup of hot chocolate cooling on the glass table and a remote in his hands, flicking aimlessly through the channels of their cable box. His mind is elsewhere, trying to untangle his jumbled thoughts and he doesn’t hear the keys jingling in the front door lock.

“Someone looks awfully cozy in my blue blanket.” he blinks, his thoughts being momentarily forgotten when he looks up to find Louis standing, hands on his hips. “I’ve been looking for that thing everywhere.” he adds. Liam and Niall suddenly come out of hiding, plop themselves on the stools by the open counter.

Zayn sits up, the blanket falling off his shoulders as he shrugs and reaches for his hot chocolate and taking a gulp, the warm liquid sliding down his throat. “Left it here last month, mines now.” he says. “How’d you lot get in here anyway? I took away your key last week.” He asks, grimaces at the memory of walking into his flat after work to find a massive mess through out the flat. For the third time that month. He took Louis’ keys after he cleaned and he hasn’t given them back since, might not give them back for a while considering he’s good at holding grudges when he wants too.

“Oi, Zayn! Want a sandwich? Knowing you, you forgot to eat all today.” He hears shouted from the kitchen and that explains how they got in.

“Actually.” He states with a matter-of-factly tone. “Danny came over this morning, bought me some Samosas his mum made and we ate those.”

Harry strides into the living room, a frown on his lips when he asks, “You didn’t save me any?”

He rolls his eyes, doesn’t bother on answering because Harry complains when he doesn’t eat but pouts and complains some more when he does. There’s just no pleasing him, it seems like.

He sits back as Niall sparks a conversation about exotic foods he tasted on many of his family vacations, practically drooling when he goes into detail about curtain ones. It’d be a funny sight if he wasn’t so distracted.

It’s just, usually right when he lays down, before he can listen to the silence for too long and his mind wonders to the darker corners, these past few nights Liam has reserved a special hour of his thinking time. Liam and his crinkled smile and his large hands. Liam, the person he had only seen once but has managed to leave such an impression and has crept his way into Zayn’s mind already. Those nights, he didn’t have his face memorized too well yet but he remembered his eyes, how warm and inviting they looked; _are_. And his voice, smooth and attracting.

And now he’s focused on Liam, his surroundings all muffled words as he stares, observes, memorizes. He’s trapped here now but he’s got a picture memory for later and he’s thankful for that because his fingers twitch with the want for a pencil and paper to sketch the shape of those lips and the curves and dips of those hands.

He doubts he'll be able to bring himself to actually  _look_ at a blank paper though. Not without breaking into a cold sweat.

He hasn’t had this strong of an urge to make someone a piece of art on paper in a long time too, not since Harry and his curls when they were children, since Louis and his eyes years ago, since _him_ and his everything all throughout high school. But back then, those urges were dim, only sparked by seeing something new and interesting. They weren’t this agonizing, this persistent when he tries to ignore it.

“Hey, Zayn.” Liam says suddenly, turning to look at him and Zayn’s eyes snap away, a light blush he tries to will away decorating his cheeks at almost being caught staring so shamelessly. “We’re all going to another pub tonight, you should come.” he says with what Zayn would call, hopeful eyes but he doesn’t dwell on that because there’s no way Liam is actually hoping he’d go.

“Yeah!” Niall pipes. “They have karaoke tonight!”

“Oi, Zayn! You love karaoke!” Harry exclaims, grinning as he bounces on his toes.

“I hate karaoke.” he deadpans, before sipping his beverage.

“No, Zayn secretly loves karaoke.” Harry insist, addressing everyone in the room but him.

“You and Louis love karaoke. I just love watching you two humiliate yourselves when you’re pissed and trying to sing shitty Selena Gomez songs to old men.”

“Hey!” Louis interjects, an offended look on his face but Zayn knows it’s all fake because Louis is a drama queen. “ _Who says_ is a very meaningful song that can touch the soul of any person of any age.”

“I hate it.”

“That’s because your soulless and you hate everything.” Zayn doesn’t deny just sticks his tongue out, Louis returns it and someone laughs in the background.

“I’m going to my room.” He decides, hiking the blanket up and wrapping it around his shoulders. He stands, kicks Louis’ outstretched leg when he kicks it out with an intention on tripping him.

“I want my blanket back!”

“And I want Chris Pine for Christmas but that's not happening, is it?” He shouts back before kicking his door shut and letting out a long breath, sliding down his door and dropping his face in his hands.

He just. Ugh. He had to leave that room, Liam was everywhere around him and it was growing overwhelming. He’s always hated his heart and how it gives itself to something sweet so willingly. He’s stuffed it in this suffocating box so it wont feel ever since... _Nathan_... but it’s still stuttering at the sound of Liam’s voice, clenching at his laugh and drawing towards him. He’s just got to stay away, lock the box with more chains and pray that it protects him, pity himself when it doesn’t work.

He’s always crushed too fast, always caved into his feeling. He seems to have this thing with love at first sight with almost everyone he meets. It’s one of the negatives of being a romantic at heart. It loves to love too easily. And he hates it.

And he specially hates that this ‘love at first sight’ bullshit feels so much different with Liam then it did with everyone else, even Nathan.

 

::::::::

 

He doesn’t see Liam again for two months. And that might be because he’s been avoiding the lad but that is nobodies business but his own.

It’s Autumn, October to be exact and oddly it’s freezing balls outside, colder than it has been in weeks and he shoves his glove clad hands deeper into the pockets of his navy blue jacket. He hair is done up, he must have spent a good hour obsessing over it, trying to perfect his quiff but he still feels self conscious of it. He shaved his scruff and he feels bare without it, feeling like everyone can notice the hallow of his cheeks now from not eating enough. He hunches his shoulders and stares at the ground, his mind filling with insecurities as he trails behind Harry and Louis.

There’s laughter from all around him, laughter and whispers and eyes and he can’t help but feel it’s all focused on him. He knows he’s not the center of the world but it sure feels like he is, like the whole worlds population is mocking him and his flaws.

So he keeps his head bowed, his eyes stuck on Harry’s ratty brown boots so he wont get lost as they step down the sidewalk.

They’re going to some restaurant that Liam had recommended through text, telling Harry the desserts are incredible and the pasta was delicious. Harry was sold at the mention pasta and dashed to his room to pull on his favorite jeans, the black ones with the hole on the pocket.

It took some more coaxing from Harry to get Zayn to actually go along and now they’re meeting Liam and Niall at the restaurant.

Liam and Niall are standing by the entrance when they finally get to their destination and Zayn’s steps falter, his mind telling him he still has time to turn around and run. It’s just, Liam’s wearing a nice leather jacket, one that looks more expensive then the ones Zayn has in his closet. And leather is just lovely on Liam and his biceps. He’s got scruff on his face as well, his hair still styled impressively and it amazes Zayn how Liam could go from smiles and innocence to pouty and bad news.

He wonders what other sides of Liam he has yet to discover.

He lingers in the back as everyone greets each other, tries to stay out of the spot light and just nods his head, offer a smile when Niall and Liam say their hellos.

The restaurant is dark inside, lights on the ceiling and the dangling leafy lamps over tables providing personal dim lighting, giving the place a sort of warm, cozy feeling. The main color inside it brown, brown tables, brown walls, brown counters, hard brown floors but it’s woodsy and comfortable, some greens and warm reds.

There’s a women standing at a wooden podium near the entrance, she’s grinning, her smile inviting as she waits for them but Zayn’s eyes are immediately drawn to the glass counter filled with desserts on the right.

“They taste even better then they look too.” Someone says close to his ear and he glances up, finds Liam gazing at the desserts as well and he looks away, trying not to blush at their close proximity.

“Yeah?” He nearly chokes out, his focus no longer on the cheese cakes but on the light cologne invading his nose (It smells amazing, he wants to bury his face in Liam’s neck and inhale his everything) and the heat he can feel radiating off Liam’s body. Zayn’s cold and the extra warmth is welcomed.

“Yeah, I recommend the mud cake if you can handle all the chocolate. It’s like heaven.” He says, his voice low and strictly directed to Zayn. It makes his chest flutter.

“Maybe, okay.” He says almost breathy, pulse jumping with nerves.

“C’mon, there leaving us.” Zayn looks up, finds that the waitress is leading Harry, Niall and Louis in the opposite way and nods his head, starts in their direction to follow. Liam stays close as they catch up, he can practically feel him on his back but he doesn’t comment, doesn’t really mind though he knows he should.

They’re led to a booth wide enough to fit all five and Zayn slides in, Harry sliding in besides him. Liam, Niall and Louis sit across them, Liam in front of him and he searches blindly for Harry’s hand, cups it when he finds it and squeezing because his nerves are spiking and all he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears and Harry is his safe house.

Harry looks down at him, a frown on his lips as he whispers, “Alright?”

He nods his head and releases his hand, grabbing his menu the waitress set down and skimming over the meals mindlessly.

“I’m Melanie and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I start you off with a beverage?” Zayn glances up, notices the petite blonde smiling at them, at Liam mostly. He watches carefully, her eyes flickering between all of them before staying focused on Liam, a light blush tinting her already pink cheeks as she continues to stare. He rolls his eyes, his stomach twisting as he slouches in his seat.

Liam orders a lemonade, smiling at Melanie and Zayn nearly makes gagging sounds. The rest of them all rattle off their drink choices before it’s Zayn’s turn. He orders a glass of iced tea, forcing a smile when Melanie flashes her own before walking off to get their drinks.

“Christ, Liam, put your goddamn face away.” Louis groans. “We can’t go anywhere without someone eye fucking you.”

Liam’s eyes widen almost comically and Zayn’s jaw tightens. “W-what?”

Louis huffs, rolls his eyes and picks up his menu. “I’m buying you a paper bag for Christmas.”

“Louis is just jealous that the waitress wasn’t eyeing him up instead.” Niall teases, smiling and reaching up to ruffle Louis hair.

Louis snaps his head away, glaring at Niall before snapping, “Jealous? As if I wanna be eye fucked by that broad. Did you see those accessories? Way tacky, mate, and I don’t do tacky.”

“You’re one to talk, Lou, did you forget Halloween last year?”

“That’s a Halloween costume, Hernando, it’s suppose to look terrible.” Louis says, his tone snippy and defensive. Zayn cracks the smallest of smiles and refocuses his attention on his menu.

He roles his eyes at the big, way too classy meal names and keeps his attention on the pictures, finding what looks the best and searching for the name in the list to see the price. He’s not very hungry, hardly ever is since Nathan use to limited his food intake when they were together. He use to be in charge of Zayn’s meals and how much he ate, use to only allow him two meals a day with little on the plate to begin with. Now, he guesses, his appetite has adjusted, that his body has grown accustom to that schedule. Sometimes he doesn’t even eat at all. When Nathan thought he was gaining too much weight, he’d take away his food privileges.

Zayn blinks, his focus finally returning to his surroundings, the soft music and the chatting of his friends. He rubs his eyes and sets the menu back down, unsure of what to order himself. An Iced Tea is set in front of him so he grabs his straw, peels off the paper and puts it in the glass, taking a sip to refresh his dry throat.

“Did you decide what you want to order or should I give you a few more minutes?” Melanie asks, opening a notepad and clicking her pen in a way that makes Zayn feel pressured.

“I’ll have that pasta right there.” Harry says, pointing at a picture on his menu. “And garlic bread, please.” He grins, dimples pronounced and the waitress blushes.

She blushes the whole way through. When Niall orders Chicken fingers and fries, when Louis requests Mash potatoes, pickles and shrimp, when Liam asks for a steak burger and waffle fries and even when Zayn orders a bowl of chicken soup.

Melanie collects the menus and assures them that their orders will be out soon.

A gentle nudge on his foot catches his attention. He looks up from where he’s shooting a text to Danny and finds Liam looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “You only got a soup? Will that fill you?” he asks, his tone quiet so it's only heard between the two of them.

Zayn shrugs, scratches his jaw and says simply, “ ‘m not very hungry.” Liam’s head tilts, his eyes scanning his face like he’s observing him and Zayn bites his lip, feeling uneasy under the scrutiny.

“She’s going to slip one of us her number on the receipt tonight, 20 quid says it’s Liam.” Louis states, clasping his hands with a serious face as if this is some declaration or something as important. It’s hardly important, she’s hardly important, in Zayn’s opinion.

“Nah, think it might be Harry, those adorable dimples really got her good.” Liam insists and Zayn suddenly wishes he had dimples.

“I don’t know, Liam, the second time around she was definitely flashing Zayn some bedroom eyes.” Liam chokes on his Lemonade at that and Zayn flushes, shakes his head vigorously because she hardly even noticed him.

“I think it’ll be me! The lasses love an Irish man!” Niall pipes, raising his hand and grinning. Harry laughs and Louis pats Niall’s cheek with affection.

“ ‘Course Niall, she practically dropped her knickers when you said her name.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything else while they wait for their food, just sits back and listens to his friends laugh and talk about anything and everything. He fiddles his fingers and wonders if he disappeared right now, if anyone would notice. They’re all focused on each other and he’s only in the corner watching, not contributing to the evening in any way. He’s hardly even necessary right now.

When the food is delivered to their table everyone dives for it but he picks at his. He circles his spoon in the bowl, swirls the noodles and chicken one way then the other before finally tasting it. It slides down his throat, slippery and thick and he smothers a grimace. The taste isn’t bad, it’s actually quite good but the texture is unique to his throat (Nathan hated soup) and after a few spoons his stomach argues with him. His bowl is still half full when Harry’s licking his fork and Niall’s sucking the ketchup of his fingers, Louis picking shrimp out of his teeth with a tooth pick and Liam wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“You’ve hardly eaten, Z, you okay?” Louis asks suddenly, his gaze flickering from the soup to Zayn’s face.

“Yeah, ‘m fine, just not very hungry.” He answers, shrugging.

“Well, if you don’t mind then, I could finish that off for you.” Niall offers as he stretches across the table, taking the soup before Zayn can even get a chance to answer. He doesn’t mind, though, he wasn’t going to eat it.

“Desserts anyone?” Melanie asks, coming from practically no where and making everyone jump in surprise. She giggles and Zayn’s stomach turns.

“Yes, please but they’ll be to go. We’ve got places to go and people to see.”

“Okay, so what’ll it be then?” she asks, looking disappointed.

Zayn glances at Liam, at his menu then at the waitress. He doesn't know why he does it, knows he's hardly going to be able to stomach it but the words come out before he can think it through. “I’ll try the mud cake, please.”

 

::::::::

 

His fingers glide over the sharp edges of his old blade. He’s clad in only boxer briefs, sat on the floor, his back leaning against the edge of his bed as his eyes trail along the metal object between his fingers. A box, about the size of a regular shoe box, sits across from him on top of his dresser. He stares at it hard and debates on opening it or not. He knows leaving it be is the finer choice, tossing it in the bin- _burning_ it in the fire place is an even better choice. But it seems he likes to torture himself with the memories.

He tosses the blade across to the floor, not planning on giving into temptation yet and brings his palms to his eyes and rubs them. His mind drifts to the past, to ferris wheels and stuffed animal, to movie make outs and quickies in the back seat of a car. His chest clenches, his heart sinking at the longing in his veins. But then he remembers tight grips that left bruises, unmerciful nights that left him feeling violated and wrong. He remembers evil smirks and balled fists and horrible words that made him feel less of himself in so many ways. Ways that have apparently stuck in his mind.

_Nothing._

_Unwanted_

_Waste of space._

_Kill yourself, they wont miss you._

Nathan use to say these things but now the words aren’t coming from his mouth, they aren’t even in his voice anymore. They repeat in Zayn’s mind but it’s his own voice he hears and it makes them feel even more so true.

He runs his hands through his hair, gripping it tight and fighting back tears. He digs his nails into his thighs, desperate not to think anymore, desperate to feel something other than this. He supposes this is no better than running a blade across his skin but at least he can’t go too deep with his nails, at least he can’t get as carried away and tear himself apart.

His nails break skin and he scratches, peels and hisses but it’s distracting and exhilarating in a sick sort of way.

He falls asleep alone hours later, huddled under his blankets with dry blood under his fingernails, flecking off the skin of his thighs, dry tear streaks on his cheeks and the early morning sun peaking through his blinds.

 

::::::::

 

He’s curled into the corner of his recliner, a thick novel propped up by his knees when he hears a knocking on the door.

He’s surprised to say the least by the person on the other side. He’d like to say he’s displeased but inside he’s squealing, his stomach doing happy flips. He ignores it, of course. “Hey, Liam.”

“Afternoon.” Liam says, a cheery smile on his lips. Zayn shifts from one foot to another, scratching his neck as he adverts his eyes from spiked nerves.

“Uh, come in.” He fumbles, fighting a blush as he steps aside, allowing Liam to walk through his doorway.

“Bought some donuts, didn’t know what kind you’d like so there’s one of each.” Liam announces as he walks into the living room, settling on the couch. Zayn notices the brown box in his hands for the first time and smiles. He likes donuts.

“Cool.” he mumbles, smiling shyly as he plops onto the recliner and reaches for the box. He picks a chocolate sprinkles, plans to go for the glaze next if he can hold this one down. Liam chooses the boston crème and leans back on the couch, taking a bite of the food. Zayn folds his legs criss cross and leans back, biting into his donut and focusing on Liam who’s flipping the channels on his television.

“Harry’s not here, if you’re looking for him.” He finds himself mentioning just because inside he’s sure Liam is here for Harry.

“I know, he’s with Lou.”

He tilts his head, wonders if he should ask but hesitates because he might come across as rude. But isn’t it also rude to show up at someone’s home without so much as a call? Kind of, so his questions are justified. “So, um, not being rude or anything but, uh, why are you here then?” he asks, his ears heating when Liam looks at him.

He shrugs his shoulders, smiles around a mouth of dough and swallows. “Was in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

Zayn smiles small, looks at his hands. “But you bought donuts? We don’t have donut shops in this neighborhood.” he points out, finding flaws in Liam’s off-handed explanation. It makes his heart stutter to think that Liam actually just came to see him, makes him want to laugh that Liam’s trying to play it off.

“Just so happened to have them in my backseat.” He continues, obviously knowing he’s been caught but willing to make it into a joke.

Zayn laughs and responds sarcastically, “Because we all keep a dozen donuts in our backseats.”

“Yes, someone who gets it.” Liam cheers and they laugh and it’s nice. Zayn doesn’t laugh often, doesn’t smile wide and genuine, more forced and sad underneath. He doesn’t like smiling either because it feels fake, like he’s lying to himself but right now, it feels okay, he feels okay. Because Liam made him laugh.

“You know what’s also not in the neighborhood?”

“What?” He asks, curious of what Liam is going on about now and forcing himself to finish off his donut. His appetite disagrees with the food but his mind tells him he has to finish it, can’t stir up questions.

“The shopping mall. Christmas is coming and I have yet to buy presents for my sisters or parents and I don’t want to go alone, so was wondering if you’d wanna come with?” Liam asks, smiling friendly and Zayn does his best to keep his surprise and hesitation discreet. Shopping with Liam? Shopping for presents doesn’t take five minutes either, he’d be with Liam for hours. Alone.

His mind is telling him no, that going with Liam would be a horrible idea but his heart is jumping at the thought of spending the day with Liam. Plus he hasn’t even shopped for his sisters either. So… he kind of has to go now, yeah? It’s the perfect chance to knock out holiday shopping and he’ll have help if he gets stuck on what to buy.

“You don’t have to, I can go with Louis.” Liam adds, still smiling but it’s faltered and his eyes aren’t glimmering like they were and that just fucking does it.

“No, yeah, I’ll go.” He says probably to quick to appear calm like he planned. “I haven’t gotten my family gifts yet either so yeah, that sounds good.” Liam’s smile widens again and he can hardly resist returning it. It’s far to contagious.

 

::::::::

 

“I don’t even know where to start.” Liam admits as they walk through the main entrance. Zayn hums in agreement, burying his hands further in his leather as he reads all the store signs.

“Well, what do your sisters like?” He decides to ask, it’s the typical question but a good place to start if your clueless on what gifts to buy.

“Um, the normal girl stuff, I guess, like, cats and shampoo?” He says, ending in a question and a shrug of his shoulders. Zayn looks at him, huffs a laugh and shakes his head with fond. Liam really is clueless and it’s kind of endearing. “But I am not buying any cats.”

“No cats.” Zayn repeats, unable to bite back his smile that feels weird on his face. “Well, I think it really depends on the ages of your sisters.” He starts. “Like, if it’s any help, my older sister, Doniya, she looses it over expensive purses and make up. Waliyha, my younger sister, loves Justin Bieber, I usually stick to his merchandise. Then little Safaa, she’s the youngest but quite mature for her age, she wont play with barbies or baby dolls like most kids, she prefers large, interesting books that she can re-read without getting bored.” He says, glancing at a few of the little trinkets on the small carts they pass. “So if your sisters are anything like mine then it’s probably safe to stick with shitty popstar merchandise and fashion.”

“Hm.” Liam hums and Zayn looks up, watches him nod his head with a thinking look on his face. “Yeah, Nicola and Ruth do shop a lot, I think fashion, maybe even jewelry would be the way to go. Except I don’t really know shit about women’s fashion.”

“Yeah, me too. We’ll just wing it and hope for the best, I guess.” Liam laughs and Zayn’s chest flutters with pride.

 

::::::::

 

“Hey, look at this bracelet, Z!” Liam calls and Zayn turns from where he’s admiring a beautiful silver necklace and finds Liam at the front of the small store waving him over. He tells the employee showing him the piece of jewelry that he’ll be back before crossing the shop and joining Liam at his side.

“It’s perfect for me mum, she loves jewelry and it has her birthstone and everything. It’s even on sale.” He tells him enthusiastically and Zayn has to smile as he leans over the glass to take it in. It’s a fine piece of jewelry, gold with a pretty little birthstone in the middle. “I’m on a budget but I can risk pushing it for my mum.”

Zayn grins, tongue pushing behind his teeth and looks at Liam, his throat contracting at the soft, fond look of Liam’s face when he speaks of his mother. It’s sweet. “It’s lovely, she’ll love it.” He says, genuine and soft. Seeing the smile on Liam’s face warms his body, he feels like his black heart has grown ten folds from today alone. Like, it’s shinning and pumping a special rhythm and bursting inside his chest.

He flushes, decides it’s a perfect time to create some distance between himself and Liam and returns back to his previous spot while Liam purchases his mothers gift. He searches a bit more before finding a thin bangle and imagining how it would look on Safaa’s wrist. He buys it along with the silver necklace with the diamond encrusted heart for his mother and now he’s broke, the money he’s saved from each paycheck for weeks now and the money his parents send him monthly, gone. But all gone to a good cause, he supposes.

They go to the food court after Liam finishes the last of his shopping (Zayn finished off a while before), arms heavy with bags filled to the brim with gifts. Zayn collapses onto a metal cushioned chair at an empty table and drops the bags at his feet, sighing in relief. “I hate the holidays.” He groans, closing his eyes and relaxing into the seat. Liam huffs, falls into the seat across from him and hums in agreement.

“You look like you’ve ran a marathon, mate.” Liam laughs, breathy and amused. Zayn opens his eyes, glares before noting that Liam doesn’t look as dead as Zayn currently feels.

“And you don’t. Why?”

“Because I’m use to lifting heavy things and running around. It’s the benefits of exercising.” Liam says proudly and Zayn scowls and lulls his head back against the back of his seat again, closing his eyes.

“Whatever, you and your stupid biceps. You’ll never catch me in a gym.” Liam laughs and the tips of Zayn’s lips lift but never form a full smile.

“C’mon, you should come to the gym with me one day, it’ll be great. There’s a boxing ring and everything.”

“Boxing, hm?” He asks, actually taking that into consideration because he’s always wanted to try out boxing, just never found a chance. “I’ll think ‘bout it.”

“That’s good enough for me. I’m going to grab some pizza, want anything?” The sharp pains in his stomach says yes but his appetite gags and completely disagrees.

“Nah, ‘m good.” He lifts his head, adjusts his glasses so they don’t slip off his nose.

“Are you sure?” Liam asks, his eyes furrowed and a frown on his lips. “We’ve been running around all day, you should definitely eat something so your energy doesn’t get to low.”

Zayn internally rolls his eyes, bites back the sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue and says instead, “I’ll be fine.” Liam lingers for a few seconds before turning and walking away.

He waits, watches people walking around with different sized bags, some alone, most in groups. His eyes lock on a shade of black hair though, ruffled and shaggy and it looks painfully familiar. He squints his eyes behind his glasses, runs them along the back of the stranger in the candy store across from the food court before sucking in a breath, his eyes widening with panic. His throat tightens, his sweaty hands grip the edge of his seat and he honest-to-god almost dives under the table, fully prepared to risk anything to hide, to protect himself.

But then the person turns around and no, Nathan’s nose isn’t that large and he doesn’t have an eyebrow piercing. He lets out a long exhale of relief, closing his eyes and slouching in his seat. It’s then that Liam appears again, a tray of food in his hands and a foam cup in his hands.

He smiles shyly but gives a determined look when he slides the foam cup into Zayn’s space on the table. “I got you a coffee, it’d at least give you some energy. Can’t have you passing out on me, have enough things to carry.” He jokes and Zayn smiles, his near panic attack replaced with a warm spread through his body. He lowers his eyes to the cup and lifts the tab, bringing it to his lips.

He’s surprised by the taste, was expecting something sweet and creamy but it’s the exact opposite. It’s exactly how he prefers his coffee. “Black. How’d you know?”

Liam flushes lightly _(that’s adorable, shit)_ , smiles innocently and confesses, “I may have remembered hearing Louis say something about disgusting black coffee and pitying your taste buds the day we met.”

Zayn might as well rip his bleeding heart out and drop it on the table because it’s trying to escape his chest anyway. His hands tingle with the want to reach out and grab Liam’s hands, tangle their fingers and close the distance separating them, thank him properly for caring, for not taking his no as an answer when everyone else would. But no, he can’t. He’s not ready for something like that.

Plus, he doesn’t even know if Liam’s even into blokes (something he should definitely find out before he gets deeper into this) and even if he is who says he’s into Zayn? Why would he be? Zayn’s hardly a sight to see, he’s nothing special and his personality is shit. Who wants to date a bitter grouch, seriously, though?

He snaps himself out of his thoughts, chooses not to depress himself and ruin the moment and smiles at Liam, a little forced considering he just talked himself down and he’s hardly feeling confident but a part of it is real and that’s enough. “Thanks for-” he stops himself, decides not to go into detail about his gratitude and says simply, “Thank you.” and hoping maybe Liam will catch the rest.

Liam puts his pizza down, his eyes softening and a small smile stretching his cheeks the slightest. “Your welcome.”

 

::::::::

 

Liam left almost as soon as they got to Zayn’s flat, saying how he has to get home and wrap his presents before packing a suitcase because he’s heading to Wolverhampton in a few days to visit his family for the holidays. Zayn nods, says his goodbyes and closes the door behind Liam, sighing because pathetically, he misses him already.

He’s cutting paper and folding edges when his bedroom door opens. He doesn’t look up, already knows who is walking into his room without knocking, the only person besides Louis with the guts. Harry sinks to the floor besides him and takes the job of breaking off tape and handing it to him when he needs it. It’s quiet and that’s the beauty of their relationship. Nothing is forced. They can sit in silence for seconds to hours and not feel the need to fill it with small talk. There’s no awkwardness or uncomfortable sittings with each other. It’s easy and that’s something Zayn needs in his life, desperately. Silence and easy, somewhere to remember he isn’t alone, somewhere he can stripe himself bare (emotionally) and know the world isn’t watching, judging.

Harry’s been by his side throughout his life, through the easy and the bad, the latter seems more consistent these past few years though.

Harry’s the one who held him when Nathan was cruel, the one who shushed him and told him it’ll be okay. Harry’s the one who finally stood up after years of torture, of abuse, after he bought Zayn home from the hospital, bandages wrapped around both Zayn’s wrist and finally shoved Nathan out the door, refused to let him back in, threatened to call the police if he ever came around again. So basically, Harry kind of saved his life and sometimes Zayn forgets to thank him for that.

“You went shopping without me.” Harry states but there’s no anger or offense in his tone, actually he’s smiling a little.

“Yeah, went with Liam.” he answers, taping up the Christmas tree wrapping paper over the small jewelry box that holds his mothers necklace.

“Didn’t know you two where close like that. Have fun?”

Zayn shrugs. He did have fun but he’s not going to voice it.

“He asked about you, you know.”

Zayn’s head snaps up, finds Harry smirking at him. He returns his attention back to his wrapping and shrugs, tries to play it cool as he asks, “Did he?”

“Yeah.” Harry confirms. It silent again and Zayn would press, try to find out exactly what Liam wants to know while trying to be discreet about it but he knows Harry and he knows Harry isn’t finished speaking yet, just talking a dramatic pause so he waits. “He asked me what's wrong with you.”

He nearly cuts right through his finger with the scissors, fucking up his straight line and giving his pointer a good shallow slit. “Fuck.” He hisses, bringing his finger to his mouth. He looks at Harry, scowls at the amusement in his green eyes. He plucks his finger out and hesitantly asks, “What do you mean, wrong with me?”

“You know what I mean.” Harry deadpans with a roll of his eyes that Zayn glares at. “He’s weird, has this freaky sixth sense for things. He said you're different, distant or whatever. I tried acting as if I didn’t know what he was talking ‘bout but he saw right through me.”

Zayn palms sweat as he tries to remain calm, his hands fumble with the scissors and his fingers slipping more then a couple of times while trying to fold the paper over the boxes. “What did you say?” He asks hesitantly.

“Told him it’s not my place to tell.” A heavy weight that previously suffocated him, lifts from his chest, making it easier to breath.

“Okay.” he breathes, pushes a wrapped present away from him and leans against the edge of his bed, running a hand through his messy hair. A part of him is disappointed, kind of wishes Harry did tell Liam what happened so he wouldn’t have to in the future but another part, a larger portion, is just thankful, relieved. He knows he can’t avoid this large of a secret forever, knows eventually it’s going to all hit the fan but it’s nice that he can avoid it for a little while longer.

“Are you ever going to, like, tell him?”

“The fuck would I do that for? No, I don't even know how he'd take it. It's not really- dinner conversation, is it?” He answers truthfully.

“Yeah, I get it.” it’s quiet again and Harry scoots over, curls into Zayn’s side and rest his head on his shoulder. Zayn’s head falls to the side, drops to rest onto Harry’s, his curls getting into his mouth. “Must be hard to keep something like that hidden from someone your totally falling for, though, yeah?”

“Not really, I mean-wait, what? I’m not falling for Liam.” He snaps and tries to play off the defense in his tone.

“Denial is not a pretty color on you, babes.” Harry teases, patting his thigh before leaving it rested there. Zayn’s tempted to shove it away.

“You’re mental.” He mumbles.

“If it helps, he’s quite pathetic for you too, mate. I guess he's just as bad as you. Honestly, it's both ridiculous and cute.”

“You’re not funny, Harry.” He hisses, nudging Harry away.

“I’m serious, Z. I know you find it hard to believe but I wouldn’t fuck with your feelings like that, you know that.”

“Whatever ‘m takin’ a shower.” He mumbles, standing up and crossing the room.

Harry sighs, “Okay, fine. Be careful.”

He spins around, anger boiling in the pit of his stomach, “Christ, Harry, I’m not going to bloody drown myself in the water!”

Harry sucks in a breath, flinching before lowering his gaze, casting it on the floor. “You know that’s not what I meant.” he spits. "I just know you tend to think too much when you're alone."

Zayn frowns, his anger replaced with guilt because he’s an arsehole and he knows how touchy Harry still is about that kind of subject but seriously, what else could he have meant by be careful in there? “I know, ‘m sorry.”

“Whatever, go take your shower.” Harry snaps, his eyes staring hard at the floor and Zayn’s jaw tenses, his fists balling as he stomps out of the room.

 

::::::::

 

He sinks into the tub, hot water pouring over his head and soaking his battered skin.

He doesn’t understand why Harry would say that, why he would lie to him like that and now he’s just upset. It’s just, Liam is gorgeous, tall and broad, muscles and a perfect smile, kind and soft to everyone. He’s so perfect and Zayn is anything but.

They talked a lot today, Liam doing most of it and he found out a lot of things about him and it was all just a constant reminder of how much better Liam is than him.

Liam’s in Uni and he’s got his life planned out, he’s going to be successful and Zayn knows he's going find a lovely wife and have kids, live in a beautiful dream home and be happy. Zayn’s not, he’s not good enough. He hasn’t got a single clue as to what his future is going to look like except that it will be sad and lonely, empty and alone like he always is. Harry won’t stick around forever, he has his own life and he really wants to own that bakery one day. Zayn is holding him back. And as for Louis? Louis has big dreams, dreams that involve fame and the big screen, charming A list celebrities and owning butlers. Dreams that don’t involve someone like Zayn.

He use to be an aspiring artist, use to draw and paint all day, every day. He created portfolios of his best work, planned to send it out to Universities for the arts and make something of himself but… but Nathan told him he wasn’t talented, wasn’t good enough. He told him if he wanted to be some starving artist then he can make it happen on an cheaper budget. Zayn was hardly allowed a bite of food until he gave up on his dreams.

Nathan knocked him around, told him his work was shit and how pathetic he was for even trying. He said that Zayn wasn’t beauty in the least bit so how could he ever expect to create beauty. Nathan tore his sketches and dumped his colors down the drain. So Zayn gave up, put away what was left of his paintbrushes and threw out his easel, tossed his dreams and pleased Nathan in the process. Nathan was always happy to see him give up, to see him shatter and fail, utterly hopeless. Zayn swears he got off to it.

And it’s moments like these that Nathan’s words flood his mind, his words but Zayn’s voice and it tears him apart on the inside. He tears himself apart on the outside.

He shakes under the spray of water, turns the temperature hotter so the sting of his skin matched with his nails biting flesh will distract himself from his torturous thoughts.

He wasn’t good enough for Nathan, wasn’t pretty enough, strong enough, talented enough and Nathan was a piece of shit. What the hell makes Zayn think he’ll ever be good enough for Liam?

Nathan was right. He’s always right and he always will be, wont he?

 

::::::::

 

They spend their last night together holed up in Zayn and Harry’s flat. There was a great debate between going to a club, which of course was Louis and Niall’s idea _(It’s my bloody birthday and I demand we get proper sloshed!,_ Louis had said) or staying in and watching movies, which was Zayn’s suggestion and Harry went along because he’s always on Zayn’s side and the other way around. Liam was stuck in the middle, the tie breaker. Louis tried bribing and bargaining but in the end Liam compromised.

Movies, alcohol and food.

Since it was their bright idea, Louis and Niall brought the beer and liquor while Zayn and Harry sorted through their movie collection and Liam helped them choose what to watch.

“No, Liam, no superhero movies!” Harry lectured, snatching the Batman Returns from his hands and shoving it back on the shelf.

“Oi, why not?” He asks, pouting and Zayn respects Harry for holding his ground because Zayn undeniably would have turned into putty and caved at that jutted lip and big chocolate eyes.

“I have had enough of that shit with Zayn, seriously, mate, he made me watch The Avengers eleven times. And don’t get me started with his creepy obsession with Loki and Spiderman. I had to find an end to it before I started to cry!”

“You loved it.” Zayn says, tugging one of Harry’s curls.

“Well, Spiderman’s a classic but after the first six times watching all three movies I wanted to rip my eyes out with an ice cream scooper.”

“The Avengers never gets old.” Liam pipes, grinning. “Neither does Spiderman. In my opinion though, Batman will always be one of the greats.”

Zayn sucks in a breath, his eyes widening before he shamelessly beams. Liam’s into superheroes. Fuck, just another thing that tugs on his heart strings. Just another damn thing to love about Liam Payne.

“Well, you two can just watch the damn movies together, then. Save me from insanity at such a young age.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. There’s the smallest of smirks on his lips and Zayn kind of wants to punch it off because he knows the extent of Harry’s idea. Harry thinks he’s so slick but Zayn can see right through him. The only thing slick about him is his hair when he gels it up.

Liam smiles and nods before going back to sorting through movie cases and Zayn, as discreetly as he can, pinches Harry’s skin and he squeals, pulls away and rubs his arm.

“Prick.” he mumbles.

In the end they chose a few comedies and _Love, actually_ because it’s Harry’s favorite movie and he literally whines in Zayn’s ear until he gives in.

“So, he can watch _Love, actually_ but I can’t watch batman?” Liam complained, bottom lip jutted again and his arms crossed. For the love of god, he’s dealing with children.

“Zayn likes me better.” Harry had insisted, shrugging his shoulders with a victory smirk on his face. Zayn snorted, rolled his eyes and stood up.

“You two kids bicker all you want, I’m stepping out.” He grabs his leather from the coat hanger and pulls it over his shoulders.

“Where you going?” Liam asked.

“Cigarette break.” He answered. He tucks a fag behind his ear and exit’s the room in a hurry.

He finds the back exit easy enough, has the path memorized and props the door open with a large rock. He leans against the brick, places his cigarette between his lips and lights up. He has trouble finding the flame at first, has to cup because the chilly breeze keeps blowing it out but he finally gets it. The butt glows a bright red when he inhales, his eyelids falling closed as the sweet relief of nicotine spreads through his body and calms his jitters.

He’s nervous. He’s always nervous and it only grows worse around Liam. They've hung out plenty, talked enough, went bowling at one point (as a group, of course) for the love of god but his palms still get all sticky and clammy and his mouth still dries when he’s around him. His need for a cigarette only intensifies the more he thinks and psyches himself out. At the mall he must have slipped out five times, having two smokes each break. He almost finished his pack that day all together and he’s been trying to quit.

He’s been trying to quit for a long time though. The first time he promised to stop was when Nathan found out. At first Nathan had been sweet about it, they’re relationship still fresh and new, he had expressed his worry and concerns and Zayn promised he’d stop. That didn’t last and the second time Nathan was angry. They’re relationship was still in it’s early stages, only four months in and Nathan must have felt ballsy. He took the cigarette from between Zayn’s lips and crushed it, spitting how disgusting the habit is and confiscating Zayn’s whole pack. The third, because obviously Zayn hadn’t learnt his lesson yet, Nathan was unforgiving. He plucked the stick from Zayn’s fingers and pressed the butt into his collarbone. Zayn had cried out, shoved him away which Nathan hadn’t taken kindly too.

That was around the time things got bad, six months into their relationship. It happened gradually, so discreet; the abuse (he still finds that word foreign and scary, even a little dramatic), that he hadn’t realized what was really happening until it was too late. Till he was small and scared and too weak to protect himself.

He even stopped smoking for a bit, to scared of what Nathan would do to him this time but after a while, the fear, the stress, the craving for it all to go away, it became too strong and he found himself chain smoking in an ally a month later while Nathan was out with his friends, getting plastered and fucking some bird or bloke in the loo most likely. Of course Zayn hadn’t figured that at the time.

And now, he’s been smoking less, trying to stop with slow progress but his nerves never relax unless he’s drowning in a cloud of swirling smoke. So here he is, chain smoking in the back of his building because he’s weak and pathetic and has no self control.

 

\------

 

They get absolutely pissed that night on too many beers and shots.

Louis is the worst drunk to deal with but of course Zayn figured this out a year ago when Louis wouldn’t stop rambling about how fit the red head across the bar was and nearly got them pummeled by the girls boyfriend when he rubbed up against her. Then he barfed all over Zayn’s new shoes on the walk home and proceeded to pass out in the street.

Zayn finds out the Irish really can drink you under the table and it’s not just some stereotype when he finds that Niall can hold his liquor really damn well. Him and Louis must have had around the same number of drinks yet Louis is a royal mess while Niall is sprawled out on the floor, swigging a beer with flushed pink(er) cheeks and a lazy grin gossiping about students in his University with perfectly coherent words.

Harry is a very affectionate drunk. Zayn’s known this since they went through their rebellious stage at 14 where all they did was sneak out, drink and smoke. Harry’s always hanging over someone when he’s drunk, hair a matted mess and squishing his lips to their cheeks and forehead, mumbling about how much he loves you whether you’re a stranger or a long time mate.

Zayn is a chill drunk but as of late he’s been a very depressive drunk, more so then usual and since he didn’t want to fall apart and weep and complain about how much his life sucks around Liam, he only drank enough to get buzzed. It didn’t take much for him to get buzzed anyway considering he hasn’t eaten a single thing today.

Liam? Either Liam didn’t drink or he can drink circles around them all because he’s completely normal. He’s flushed from laughing at them and he’s just leaning back on the couch with a full bottle of beer in his hand. And now that Zayn thinks about it, he hasn’t seen Liam take a single sip of that beer in like, hours, maybe not at all, and he should know because he’s only been staring at the guy all night. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if the question ever rises.

“Hey, Liiiaaaam.” Harry sings, his body slouched into Zayn’s side and his curls tucked under Zayn’s chin. “You kind’f look like tha’ bloke.” He slurs, “Ya know, da one from tha’ sport.”

“What bloke, Haz?” Liam asks, amusement clear in his tone.

“That David Beckham fellow!" Harry remembers, snapping his fingers in Liam’s direction. “Quite sexy', he 's.” Liam laughs, his eyes crinkling and his cheeks turning a light hue of pink. It’s quite the sight. “Don’ he look like ’im, Zaynie? All strong and hot? Could turn me, doesn’ needa turn you though!” He sings, removing his head from the crook of Zayn’s neck with a smirk. Zayn absolutely refuses to blush and snorts instead, shoves Harry’s heavy weight off of him.

“Get'ff me, you smell like a bloody keg.” He responds instead, much more sober and coherent as Harry’s body rolls off the couch and onto the floor, bubbles of laughter traveling around the flat. Zayn watches as Harry reaches up, his hands blindly searching and finding a couch pillow and pulling it down for a cuddle. Zayn rolls his eyes fondly.

“What are we going to do with them?” Liam laughs and Zayn follows his gaze to where Louis is sprawled on the wooden table without a shirt on and singing something that Zayn can’t quite make out because the words are too slow and blended together to understand.

“Eh, leave um?” He suggest, shrugging his shoulders because what the hell else are they suppose to do with three drunk people. They’ll clock out eventually.

“Maybe we should get them to bed.”

“No! Sleeps for the weak!” Louis shouts, his hands fisted in the air.

“I dunno, ‘m pretty knackered and I drank all of your weights combined.” Niall says as he stands, wobbling and loosing his footing slightly. But he recovers quickly and drags his feet towards Harry’s room.

“You’re weak, Lucky, I thought we were in this toge’r!”

Zayn smothers a laugh and leaves his spot to pull Louis off the table. He’s reluctant, fighting against Zayn and slapping his hands away until Liam appears at his side and grabs Louis’ wrist. “It’s two in the morning and you have a flight at ten, lets get to bed, yeah?”

Louis whines and mumbles, “Worst birfday ever.” before letting himself be dragged to Harry’s room by Liam.

Zayn crouches next to Harry’s sleeping form once Liam’s out the room and gently pushes his shoulder. “Harry, wake up.” He says but Harry remains lifeless and he’s growing impatient. He has a never ending headache and he’s fucking tired and he doesn’t feel like coddling Harry right now.

“Haz, get up, we’re going to bed.” He says sternly, pushing a little harder and Harry whines, pulling the pillow closer to his chest.

“Leave me ‘lone, ‘m comfy. You’re bed sucks and the floor is pretty.” And Zayn sighs, grabs the blue blanket from the couch and drapes it over Harry’s curled form, small snores filling the new silence in the room.

“You’re leaving him on the floor?” A voice asks from behind him and he stands, turns and shrugs his shoulders.

“He says my bed sucks and I can’t pick him up cause he weights a ton.”

“Mh.” Liam hums and looks back up, they’re eyes meeting. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll just go then.” He says, scratching the back of his neck and backing away slowly. He turns and Zayn feels a sudden panic in the pit of his stomach, a panic that almost has him lunging forward and grabbing Liam before he can make it out the door. He doesn’t want Liam to go. Well he wants him to leave but he doesn’t really want him to leave and he doesn’t know if that even makes any sense but it’s how he feels and his life and feelings haven’t made any sense since he was 15 so he’s long given up on trying to figure it out.

He bites his lip and runs a hand down his face, muttering a silent curse before, “Y-you don’t have to, uh, leave.” He rushes, his body raising in heat when Liam turns around swiftly, a look of surprise and a hint of something resembling relief on his face except it’s not relief, it can’t be. He feels a need to explain himself. He looks away, stares at his sock clad toes and rings his fingers (christ, he’s sweating), “I mean, everyone’s here and like… like, it’s late and um-”

“Okay.” Liam cuts off with a small smile, probably noticing how bad Zayn is struggling with getting this one sentence out and has taken pity on him.

“Okay.” He repeats a little breathlessly, still not making direct eye contact. “You can take the couch if you want but uh, it’s not very comfortable… or you could just sleep in my room.” He suggest, trying to play it cool and calm but his throat is tight and he can hardly breath and he’s fucking inviting Liam to sleep in his bed. Holy shit.

“Okay.”

Zayn clears his throat, glances at Liam one more time before stepping around Harry and walking down the hall with Liam trailing close behind. He leaves the door cracked open a little because Harry’s alone in the living room and he can admit that he worries a little before turning and finding Liam standing at the edge of the bed chucking his pants off and Zayn almost screams. Almost.

“You can take the right side.” he says, trying to ignore the tension that fills the room. He wonders if Liam can feel it too.

“So you have a specific side.” Liam acknowledges as he slides in the bed and under the covers. Zayn’s chest clenches and his stomach does about twenty somersaults at the sight of Liam in his bed half naked and smiling. Zayn wonders if he feels as warm and cozy as he looks. He wishes he could find out.

“Yeah, you can say that.” He responds and joins Liam in his bed still fully clothed in his sweats because he’d be damned if he let Liam see what’s under his clothes. Not only are there marks and scratches but the body that hides under these layers is anything but attractive.

He must spend the first five minutes moving around, trying to get comfortable while keeping a safe distance between himself and Liam but he’s stiff and wide eyed and panicking inside. It’s dark and he can’t necessarily tell if Liam is as uncomfortable as he is and in a way he’s thankful for that.

“Will you stop moving.” Liam says lightly, something that sounds like fondess in his tone and Zayn doesn’t feel as embarrassed as he would if his tossing and turning really was upsetting Liam.

“Sorry, I just-I can’t get comfortable.” he admits, huffing and sitting up, rubbing his face. His head is starting to hurt and his eyes are heavy and he desperately hopes insomnia wont overcome his exhaustion again tonight.

There’s shuffling before Liam says, “Here.” and Zayn’s being pulled down with enough ease. He lets out a surprised sound when he’s he falls into Liam’s side, his head against his chest and Liam’s arms encircling his waist. He’s stiff at first but then Liam pulls the blankets over them and snuggles closer and yeah, this is kind of comfortable and Liam is as warm as he looks.

He wishes this was weird and awkward too so he can excuse himself and sleep in the living room with Harry but it’s not, it actually feels kind of natural and his heart flutters at how easily they fit together. It’s frightening, his heart hasn’t felt this warm and high in a long time.

“Better?” Liam whispers and shit, he’s close and Zayn wants to kiss him so bad. He really needs to stop being so pathetic and get some self control.

He swallows, “Yeah.” He can hear Liam’s heart beating and it’s soft and steady in his ear. He hasn’t been held by anyone but Harry in months, hasn’t been held like this ever. Nathan was distant and his grip was loose most of the time, as if he was hoping Zayn would slip away. Other times his arms were too tight and his hands gripped too hard, leaving bruises in their wake and every time Zayn would so much as breath too deeply the hold only got more painful.

Liam’s hold is different. It’s solid and secure, tight but not uncomfortably, not suffocatingly tight and Zayn feels… nice.

It’s terrifying.

Liam’s hand rubs small circles on his clothed back and he hesitantly slides a hand over Liam’s skin, resting it across his stomach and smothering a groan because Liam’s abs and the string of hair his fingers had run over. Jesus. That was a mistake.

Liam’s body tenses for a second and his hand stutters but only for a moment before he continues moving slow circles along his back and it’s as soothing as before.

“Goodnight, Zayn.” he says, his voice quite, just barely above a whisper.

“Night, Li.”

 

 

\------

His eyes blink open slowly and the first thing he notices is the very low lighting squeezing through his blinds. Then he sees the 6:08 flashing on his alarm clock before finally he notices the difference between his mattress and what he actually feels under him. He lifts his head, his throat drying when he realizes he’s practically on top of Liam. His breathing grows shallow and his heart drums in his ears as he slowly lifts himself off the sleeping boy. Liam’s arm falls off his back, dropping to the bed like a dead weight and he carefully climbs out of bed.

In the morning light, though it’s very dim, the sun only just peaking over the horizon, Liam looks peaceful and so beautiful and that makes Zayn’s breath hitch, his face flush. He wants to stare, admire how the sheets rest low on his hips and reveal Liam’s long, sharp torso and he wants to feel his skin under his fingertips, along his tongue and lips, he wants to lean close, count Liam’s eyelashes and trace the edges of his lips but he can’t because he's not allowed. Plus he has an hour flight to Bradford at 9 o’clock and though he has a bit of lazy time, he needs to get the hell out of here before Liam wakes up. He’d be damned if he faced Liam after cuddling with him last night. He doesn’t know what but he knows something has changed between them, small but still there, he felt it as soon as Liam wrapped his arms around him and he can’t deal with that, not now.

He tip toes to the bathroom across the hall, it’s silent in the house so he knows, of course, that everyone is still asleep. Once inside, he takes a much needed piss and brushes his teeth, gargling mouth wash and splashing his face with cold water. He runs wet fingers through his messy bed head but eventually gives up when the strains refuse to cooperate. He takes his toothbrush, his soap, shampoos and gel and sneaks back into his room, careful not to drop anything or bump into any of his furniture in the almost darkness.

He pulls his duffle bag and suitcase out of his closet, adds his toiletries to everything else in his duffle bag and zips it up before quickly changing into fresh sweats, a t shirt, jumper and taking his coat off the hanger and setting it on the desk chair. He glances back at Liam, makes sure he’s still fast asleep before standing on his toes and reaching for the four wrapped gifts on his top shelf. He stumbles but catches himself quickly, checks Liam again and sees him stirring before grabbing hold of one of Zayn’s pillows and squeezing it to his chest. He ignores the tug in his chest and leaves his room, sets the four gifts on the coffee table in the living room.

Zayn looks at Harry, finds the boy still in the same position as last night, cuddling the pillow and looking a complete wreck. He rolls his eyes fondly, smiling a little before going back to his room. He pockets his phone, slips on his coat, checks the time; 6:58 and shrugs the duffle over his shoulder, grabs the handle of his suitcase and wheels it out of his room. He glances at Liam one more time, his chest tightening as he whispers his goodbye.

He closes the door slowly behind him, turning the knob so it doesn’t click and something touches his shoulder. He jumps and spins around, “Louis.”

“Where are you going?” Louis asks, his hair a rumpled mess and his last night clothes wrinkled. Zayn cringes, takes notice of the blood shot red of Louis’ eyes and the pale tone of his skin. He looks ill and Zayn can image he must have one sick hangover.

“I have a flight to Bradford.”

“But isn’t that at 10? It’s hardly 7.” Louis quizzes, looking at him with squinted eyes and crossed arms.

“Yeah but there might be traffic because it’s the holiday so I’m leaving early just in case.” He literally pulls the lie right out of his arse. He hadn’t even thought about traffic or crowds or any of those complications. They’re only now occurring to him.

“Alright but you weren’t going to say goodbye?”

‘Didn’t want to wake anyone.” He lies again and squeezes around Louis and out into the living room.

“Liam went home last night?” Louis asks as he stares down at Harry, nudges his leg with his socked foot and letting out a sigh when he moves. “Thought he was dead.” he mumbles, disappointed and Zayn rolls his eyes.

Zayn scratches the short hairs behind his neck and looks at the floor before answering though he’d rather not because then Louis will get the wrong idea. “No, he’s in my room sleeping.”

“Shit.” Louis breaths, wide eyed when Zayn makes eye contact. “About time, damn. Honestly, I have been waiting for this moment since before you two even met. I knew you'd _hit it_ off.” he winks and Zayn shakes his head quickly.

“No! Not like that, I just said he can sleep over because it was late and he was drinking and he shouldn’t drive drunk. Nothing happened, Louis-”

“Okay!” Louis cuts off his rambling, looking amused. “You’re giving me the worst headache, shut up.”

“ ‘m just gonna go, I have to go.” he mumbles. Louis sighs and crosses the space between them, throws his arms around his shoulders.

He says with a light tone, soft and quiet, “I’ll miss you, babe, call me on my birthday and text me everyday. I’ll tell the boys you said bye.” Zayn nods against his shoulder and drops the duffle to wrap his arms around Louis’ middle. He hugs his friend close and tight, a lump rising in his throat because Louis only drops his attitude when he thinks someone needs a soft voice and a smile and he just loves his best friend so much. He’s going to miss Louis even though the twat in a pain in the neck. But he’ll be back after New Years and they’re reunion will be epic.

“Tell um ‘m sorry I just left but I’ll call on Christmas.” they separate soon and he grabs his stuff from the floor again and heads to the door. “See you later, Lou.”

“Love you, Zaynie.”

Zayn chuckles at the nickname, turns the door handle and calls back, “Love you too.” before finally leaving the apartment.

 

::::::::

 

He got a cab to Heathrow and the ride was not nearly as bad as he was predicting. There was traffic of course, being just a few days before Christmas and travelers were flocking to the airport just as he was but it was just the occasional short burst of way too many cars on the road. He was there by half past 7 and that gave him enough time to check in his bags and go through security, which was a bitch itself. He’s always thought of security being the most stressful part of going through the airport process because not only are the lines long as hell and he would have to strip himself from his shoes and all that but there was also the matter of his race and religion.

He’s Muslim and Pakistani and simply looking at him you’d be able to tell this so the looks he would receive, the cautious and shameless stares, he despised. The security guards would always spend a little more time checking him over, watching him intently even after he was announced clear and he only just barely contains himself from flipping the fuck out every single time. But he makes it through without flipping someone off or getting arrested for assault.

Waiting for his flight, he purchases a coffee, a light and sweet this time just because he's in the mood for it, and a bagel since he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. He settles in an empty row of seats by the wall of gigantic windows and pulls his phone from his pocket. He hadn’t checked it since the cab ride after silencing it and he’s not so surprise to notice the missed calls and texts. They’re exactly what he expected, Louis asking if he made it to the airport safely, Harry devastated and ranting over voice mail after text about him not saying goodbye before leaving. Niall doesn’t sound so pleased either, sending frowns and question marks. Liam called him too and left him a text asking why he dipped out so early and if he’s okay.

Zayn frowns and decides to call Harry first.

After two rings he gets, “You great big dick, you didn’t even say goodbye!”

“Sorry, I-”

“You’re just lucky you got us gifts or else I would be very cross with you!”

Zayn laughs, runs a hand down his face and responds with, “Did you like your present, then?”

“Of course, love um!”

“Just thought it was ‘bout time you stopped wearing those heinous boots everyday. I know they're your favorite but the poor things are absolutely destroyed.”

“They're the same ones, though?” Harry mentions and he hears shouting and dishes clinking in the background.

“Yes but those are newer.”

“True. Oi, and that sketch, of that tattoo I told you I wanted to get? Bloody excellent, exactly how I pictured it in my head!” Zayn smiles softly, picks at nonexistent lint on his sweat pants.

“Thanks, It was hard, I haven't drawn in so long but it's like riding a bike, you know? I threw in quite a few of my own touches, also, didn’t know how’d you react to that.”

“It’s great, I love it.” There’s more chaos in the background then Harry shouts a few explicates before returning to their conversation.

“You’re coming back to hell, mate. Niall’s right cross with you and Liam’s pouting for ages. It was quite a shocker though, seeing him come out your room this morning.” There’s a smirk in his tone that Zayn rolls his eyes at. “He was shirtless and searching the flat like he lost a diamond earring.”

“He just slept over, nothing happened. I swear, you and Louis, one track minds, the both of you.”

Harry chuckles over the phone and asks, “Wanna talk to Liam? He quite liked your present. Grinning ear to ear like someone just told him he’d hit the lotto. Guess he kind of did though, yeah? Won over the golden heart of my very best mate, he did.”

Zayn flushes head to toe, wont admit if anyone asks but he’s pretty sure Harry’s got an idea. _Can’t win a heart when there is no heart to give_ , he thinks. “He didn’t win my heart and no, I’ll just text him.”

“If your sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He says a bit to defensively and Harry snickers at him over the receiver. “He liked it?” he finds himself asking, small and feeble, feeling self conscious of his present. There’s a reason he hid the presents until the very last minute. He feels far to insecure and judged when someone opens a gift from him.

“The present? Yeah, he did. He’s upset though, that he didn’t get to give you your present.”

“He had something for me?” Zayn asks in disbelief, his eyes wide and guilt seeping through his bones. But there’s also a spike of relief because he’s no better at receiving gifts as he is giving them.

“We all did but you left.” the words have some bite to them and Zayn slouches in the plastic seats.

“Harry-”

“No, it’s okay, I get it, why you left so early. I mean, Liam slept in your bed, that's a pretty big deal. I know you don't like people being around you while you sleep too, you feel defenseless or whatever. You’re overwhelmed, you need some space, I understand.”

It’s true, actually. At night, when Nathan slept over, which was most days, he would be terrified to sleep. Too many times he had woken up to bruising bones for moving too much or breathing too loudly and eventually he stopped sleeping, afraid of doing something wrong and being vulnerable and open to his attacks. He only trust Harry to share a bed with him, or it seemed because it seems last night, the possibility of another attack with Liam in his bed hadn’t even crossed his mind.

And that shakes him to the core.

“You do?”

“Zayn, you’re my best friend, I know you better then anyone, of course I understand. Now listen here, mister, I have to finish my packing before heading to the airport myself, I’ll ring you later, yeah?”

Zayn smiles to himself, remembers why Harry is his best friend. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Text me when you get home and tell mum and dad and the girls I said hello and happy holidays.” Zayn smiles at Harry’s use of the names mum and dad when referring to Zayn’s own parents. They practically grew up at each others houses, in each others families, it only seems suitable.

“Will do, same for you.”

“Wish I was going down there with you but I have to meet my parents and Gemma in Hawaii.” he whines and Zayn scuffs over the phone.

“Mate, I wouldn’t be complaining about that if I were you.”

“I know, just, it wont be the same.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

They exchange I love yous and hang up. He twirls his mobile in his hands before thinking _fuck all_  and scrolling through his contacts. He has thirty minutes to kill anyway.

He’s going to regret this, he knows.

His thumb twitches over the call button and he stares at the phone almost resentfully before finally muttering a _shit_ and putting the phone to his ear.

It rings three times and he’s about to hang up because, _no,_ _I can’t do this_ but then a voice is saying “Hello?” And it’s too late, damn it.

“Hey, Liam. It’s Zayn.” his voice doesn't crack or croak and he's so bloody proud he got that sentence out without sounding like something was lodged in his throat.

“Zayn!” Liam pipes, a smile evident in his tone but then it calms and Liam’s pout is almost heard over the phone. “You left.”

He swallows and leans forward in his seat, feeling distraught over talking on the phone with Liam, yeah that’s something he expected but it’s far more difficult then he had thought. It’s just a lot of pressure, you know? “Yeah, sorry I was going to say bye but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oi, nonsense. I wouldn’t have been upset, I’m not as obsessed with my sleep as you are.” There’s tease in his words and it makes Zayn’s lips twitch, his heart slowing to a more normal pace because he was afraid this would be awkward (though nothing between them has been awkward yet) but Liam’s making jokes and it’s a little easier to go along with them then forcing conversation about weather or whatever. Small talk, he just doesn’t do small talk.

“Hey, I am not obsessed, I just enjoy the occasional kip.” he defends, his smile growing at Liam’s snort.

“Sleeping for 3 hours straight does not nearly count as a kip. A kip is 20 minutes max.” _well if you hardly slept at night,_ he thinks bitterly but the bitter doesn’t quite reach his heart or the delight in his eyes.

“Well, sleeping is a healthier obsession then your weird fixation on all things Christian Bale. Seriously, mate, it’s boarder line stalker.” he retorts, laughing when Liam sucks in a breath. “Seriously, I’ve never been to your flat but ‘m pretty sure you’ve got posters of him covering every inch of your bedroom walls. Maybe a life size cut out as well.”

“That is neither here nor there! Batman is simply a masterpiece and I’m allowed to appreciate him, yes!” He squeals, causing laughter to bubble in Zayn’s throat again but he swallows it down.

“He’s not really Batman, though.”

“Oi, don’t you start with me, Malik! You practically breath Tom Hiddleston’s existence.”

Zayn squeaks and sits a little straighter. “Yeah, well at least I know he’s truly not Loki.”

“Must have been a devastating blow, huh.”

“Painful, I was a proper mess for a week.” Liam laughs and the sound stutters the beating of his heart. He runs a hand through his messy hair, smiling lazily and leans back in his seat.

They talk for a while, it seems. It's nothing specific, just jumping from one topic to another and it's nice. It's easy. Zayn hadn't expected chatting over the phone with Liam to feel so normal and natural but Liam's knows how to hold a conversation and he has respectful views on certain things. He really finds himself engrossed in their conversations, not wanting it to end and not worried about silences that sometimes fall between them because it doesn't feel awkward, it feels relaxing. Nothing is forced and that's surprising enough.

But suddenly there’s a slightly muffled voice echoing through the terminal and Zayn has to pull the phone away from his ear to listen. It’s a women announcing that his flight is now boarding and his heart kind of sinks. He looks back at the phone sadly before saying, “Hey, Li, I have to go, my plane is boarding now.”

He can feel the mood dim a little but then Liam’s saying, “Okay, mate, have a safe flight and text me when you’re on ground again.” and he doesn’t sound _too_  disappointed.

“Okay, talk to you later, Li.” And he hangs up, shoves the phone deep in his front pocket and grabs his carry on.

 

::::::::

 

The flight was quick and very nauseating and the trip from the airport to the front step of his home was nerve-wrecking but soothing. Seeing his old home gives him relief, his body sagging from the thought of _I don’t have to be strong around mum_ and a heavy weight in his chest that’s been pulling him down for years, finally loosing some of it’s pressure so he can take his first real breath. Being back in Bradford, with his family, in his home might be the thing he’s been needing, the security and the protection he craves.

He knocks thrice and waits. There’s chaos behind the door, shouting and things clashing, it sounds like a stampede is trampling down the hallway and he smiles softly. The door swings open and it’s his mothers shining face that greets him.

“Zayn.” She breathes, her eyes glossy and her face a picture of disbelief. “Sweetheart, it’s been so long.” And then he’s being pulled into a tight hug. He falls into his mothers body, wrapping his arms around her middle and burying his face in the top of her hair (sweet and cinnamon), wondering when exactly he got tall enough to do so.

When they pull away his mother has thin streaks of tears slipping down her cheeks and he wipes them away, swallows thickly and tries to hold back his own unnecessary waterworks. “Come in, sweetheart.” She urges, tugging on his sleeve and he steps inside, drops his luggage by the door and looking around. Everything feels familiar but a bit strange.

“Oi, honey,” she says, stepping back to fully examine him. He feels awkward and insecure under her heavy stare but it’s his mother, he knows he shouldn’t feel so self conscious and judged. “You’ve lost so much weight since last Christmas, love, are you eating?” She worries, her eyes filled with concern.

“Course, mum.” He lies. Well sort of, he eats, just not a lot. “It’s just, work and life is a bit stressful, yeah?”

She smiles though in her eyes he can read that she’s not fully convinced. “No worries, I’ll have you fattened up by the time you leave.” he forces a weak laugh. “So you’re alone? Where’s Nathan.” Zayn tenses at his name, his stomach twisting painfully. He hasn’t told his family about their break up, was too afraid and ashamed to explain why so he never mentioned it. He kind of forgotten to.

“We, uh, broke up, mum.” His mothers face falls and he almost wants to cringe because her disappointment is evident.

“What a shame, such a lovely boy, he was. I wish I could have given him a proper goodbye, he was so good with the girls and your father.” his mother sighs, her features sad and regretful and Zayn wants to cry and pull out his hair because Nathan was anything but lovely and good. He put up a front around Zayn’s family, smiled and laughed when it was called for and said all the right things at the perfect time. He got on with his father better then Zayn did, bonded over sports, something Zayn never truly found interest in, and his father adored him. And that was something special because when Zayn first came out to his parents, his father was far from accepting and delighted by the news.

Nathan was abusive, mentally and physically and Zayn will always resent him, maybe not hate, he doesn’t think he can hate Nathan for some reason he will never understand but he will always resent him for making him weak and pathetic. Zayn wishes he could tell his mother everything, everything Nathan did, everything he went through and just how often he tried to take his own life at one point in his pathetic little life but he can’t, he really truly can’t because it’d shatter her heart. And he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get through that story without breaking down anyway. Nathan had destroyed him once and he's still trying to put himself back together.

“Yeah.” He forces out, shrugging. A loud scream and something crashing into his body saves him from a potentially uncomfortable trial of questions and he grins at the short girl beaming and hugging his torso.

“Zayn! I missed you!” Safaa cries and he laughs, pulls away to kiss the top of her head.

“Miss you too, Saf. Gotten big, yeah?” He observes, feeling a little blown away at her growth over the year. “How’s it? Behaving?”

“Hardly, the little brat.” He looks up, finds Waliyha standing a short distance away from them with her arms crossed and stoic expression. She’s taller than he remembers, her face much more defined and her body… _developing_. He almost cringes because ew, his sister is getting too womanly.

Instead Zayn smiles fondly when she scuffs and shakes his head, opening his arms. “C’mon, Wali.” He urges. “Too old and cool to hug your big brother, are we?” she gives in eventually, a pretty smile gracing her face and she crosses the distance, goes willing to his embrace.

His hair is ruffled from behind and he turns, sees Doniya grinning at him with a face of dark eye shadows and bright lips and he remembers how much of a diva his sister can be. It swells his heart a little. “You need a haircut, baby bro. Lookin’ a bit shabby.” he rolls his eyes and smiles, shoves at her shoulder softly.

“You’re one to talk, is this hair on your head or a nest for raccoon's?” he retorts.

Doniya gasps, her face scrunching and her hands flying up to pat at her hair. “It’s called style, Zayn, get some.”

“You’re father’s still at work right now but he’ll be back for dinner.” His mother interrupts and nerves travel through his body as he nods his head. “Speaking of, I should be getting back to the kitchen. Go unpack and I’ll whip you up something nice for lunch.”

His room hasn’t changed much besides the fact that it’s clean. His bed, twin size, is made with black silky sheets and a dark blue quilt and his walls still consist of marvel posters and Jessica Alba from when his early teenage hormones were running wild and he had a creepy obsession over her.

The walls are still a light shade of grey from when Zayn decided he wanted to sulk in his teenage angst and painted over that hideous green color of his walls without any permission. He chuckles at the memory.

His closet still has a few stray clothes hung up, ones he must have left last year. There’s old sketches and painted canvases hidden in the back of the closet as well. He reaches for one of the shirts hanging up, one that looks a bit bigger then the rest and examines it closely. He sucks in a sharp breath and he drops the shirt from his sweaty hand as if it burnt him as soon as he recognizes it. His heart rises to his throat, his fist clenching and he swears he’s going to vomit.

Nathan’s shirt.

He looks away, slams the closet door shut and crosses the room to unpack his suitcase. He avoids the closet all together, folds his clothing and places them in the empty drawers of his dresser instead.

When Zayn’s done unpacking he falls back onto his bed, fishes out his phone and turns it on. He’s got a missed call from Harry and an unread text from Louis but he ignores both, opens a fresh message to Liam and types before hitting ‘send’.

_I lived. The flight was kind of terrible but it’s nice to see the fam, you know? Hope your flight goes well too and I’ll text you later x :)_

He doesn’t wait for a reply because if he does then he’ll panic and second guess his own message and talk himself down so instead he leaves his mobile on the pillow and meets his mother in the kitchen for his promised lunch. He hardly eats, picks around at the food but makes it look as if he’s enjoying it because it’s his mother and he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. It’s good, of course but he just doesn’t have the appetite.

When his father gets home, he’s timid. He lingers in the background while his mother greets her husband with a kiss and he waits for his father to notice him. When he does he smiles, nice and wide and genuine and a knot loosens in his stomach.

“Zayn, my boy, c’mere.” Zayn smiles, feels childish when his father pulls him into a hug. It’s unexpected and he hates to admit but he’s just waiting for something to go wrong.

“Hey, baba.” He greets, standing awkwardly once his father releases him.

“So where is he?” His father urges, his grin widening as he looks around the living room, behind Zayn and around the corner. And Zayn’s face falls a little, knowing exactly who his father is asking about. But he chooses to play dumb.

“Who, baba?”

Yaser laughs, loud and straight from the belly as if Zayn just told one hell of a joke. “You know who, Zayn! Nathan, where’s Nathan? We have a lot to catch up on!” He claps, a twinkle in his eyes and there it is, there’s the wrong in all of this. His father wants to see Nathan, would rather see Nathan then his own son. Zayn almost wants to cry because his father was never that enthusiastic to see him, he’s excited for Nathan not him. He’d swear Yaser would prefer Nathan as a son than Zayn.

“Uh, we aren’t together anymore, baba.” He mumbles, staring at the floor so he wouldn’t see the way his fathers face falls before scrunching up in confusion.

“What?" he asks.

"We broke up."

"You broke up? Why on earth would you do that, Zayn?” He demands and Zayn almost flinches from the harshness of his tone.

He swallows and rings his fingers. “Um, differences, we just, we d-didn’t want the same things.” _I wanted safety and freedom, he wanted to bind me and throttle me._

“That’s ridiculous, Zayn. Surely you could have worked it out, made some compromises. That’s the adult thing to do.” He sounds upset and Zayn’s heart is beating faster in his chest. He can’t meet his eyes.

“We didn’t love each other anymore.” He mutters, quiet and hesitant but stern in a way.

“Well this is upsetting. Nathan was like a son to me, the one I always wanted.” Zayn sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes shooting from the floor to meet his fathers in disbelief.

“Yaser!” He hears his mother snap but he doesn’t break contact with his fathers angry eyes. He can feel his own brimming with tears and he turns away swiftly, not wanting to cry in front of his father and seem weaker, less and stalks upstairs, into his room and making a point of slamming the door. He falls onto his bed, cries silently into his pillow.

He kind of wishes he never even came.

He searches with blurry eyes and blind hands for his mobile. There’s a new message that he guesses is from Liam but he can’t really read the name through the wetness of his eyes and clicks out, opens a new box and types.

_They still think Nathan was a saint and baba's pissed me_

He types Harry into the **TO** box and hits send before turning back over and curling into a ball. He falls asleep, must have been out for hours because when he wakes up it’s dark outside and his body is stiff.

That’s the most sleep he’s gotten in a while but he feels as if he hadn’t slept at all. He flips on his television and listens numbly to a shitty family sitcom.

 

::::::::

 

It’s weird sleeping in his bed. It’s familiar in a way but it’s also a distant memory and something he’s not quite use to. He misses his bed back in London, misses his sheets and his room. It’s quiet in the morning, his mothers humming coming from the kitchen each morning while everyone else slept and he’s not use to that. Living with Harry and having a best friend like Louis, your flat is filled with chaos everyday and as much as he thought he despised that, he actually longs for the extra noise.

Things with his dad are tense, there’s a lot of tension through meals or watching the telly in the living room. He bonds with his sisters more but every time he turns around he finds his fathers stone expression and it freezes him to the bone.

He calls Louis on his birthday (Christmas Eve) and Louis is drunk and emotional but funny and happy. Zayn smiles and laughs along with him and they exchange I miss yous and Louis talks about his sisters and how much they’ve grown and how he feels like an old grandpa and he’s only 22. It’s a nice chat over all and it makes him feel warm but a little sad.

Christmas was lovely. His mother adored her gift, got red eyed and sniffly. His sisters where pleased as well and his father even offered him a smile after he examined his present. Zayn’s gets art supplies (his heart sinks a little and these are going in the closet) and button downs and a few books. The books look interesting enough and he beams, kisses his mothers cheek and thanks his father.

He calls Harry, wishes him a Merry Christmas and nearly cries at the sound of his best friends voice. Zayn chats quickly with his parents and Gemma and it’s nice. He feels odd in his house, a little unwanted and Harry sounds like comfort and open arms.

He calls Niall too and Niall’s a burst of giddy sunshine and enthusiasm. He tells him of his gifts and about his baby nephew; whom he adores. He goes on about how excited he is for Christmas dinner and deserts. He feels like life and endless when he talks to Niall.

His talk with Louis is short considering they talked the day before and plus Louis is a little busy with his sisters so they say their goodbyes and he moves on to his next call.

Liam’s voice is soothing and warm and inviting over the phone, just as it is in person. He wants to crawl through the phone and latch himself to Liam forever because he speaks freely and confident and he sounds like home. They laugh and Zayn asks if his family liked the presents he got them. They did and Liam sounds so happy. They talk for the longest and it’s probably the better chat out of all of them though he doesn’t do much of the talking. He just liked listening to Liam's voice.

“I miss you.” Liam had said during a comfortable silence. It was soft and quiet and Zayn’s cheeks heated up, his heart soaring because Liam really sounds genuine and sad, like he actually does miss him. He finds it kind of hard to believe because he’s just Zayn and Liam is everything. Zayn’s hardly entertaining or interesting but he still wraps himself in the thought and lets it absorb him.

“I miss you too.” and he means it more than anything.

 

::::::::

 

He left the day before New Years. He couldn’t handle the thought of starting a new year in a house full of tension. He needed drinks and fun and laughs so he went back to London early. He was alone, all the lads still off with their families and though it was a bit lonely walking into a cold, empty flat, he wasn’t all disappointed.

He went out that night, alone. He gelled his hair into a quiff, threw on a leather jacket and boots and pocketed some cash. He changed the lock to his phone because drunk Zayn loves to do some drunk texting and left that password on a sticky note on his pillow back at the flat. He wont be needing his phone tonight and if there’s an emergency, he doesn’t need to unlock his phone to call an ambulance.

Zayn gets completely sloshed, fucking blasted and it’s a mess, it really is. He’s emotional the whole night, tears falling from his eyes without him knowing and he rants to complete strangers about how shitty life can be and why they shouldn’t even start a new year when everyone’s still fucked up by the last. He looses his leather somewhere in the club and his quiff falls into his eyes, he spills more then one drink on his clothes and he interacts in way to many sexual acts just to try and ignore the way his life feels as if it’s shattering, slipping through his fingers and blowing away with the wind. He gets felt up on the dance floor, dicks on his arse and hands tugging his hair and he got a pretty shitty blow in the loo from a bird with sticky red lips and messy blonde hair.

He’s just overall an embarrassing wreck. It’s his first New Year a free man in years and he spends it getting plastered and crying over the past and how broken he feels inside. It’s ridiculous and maybe he should have stood home with his family or at least with Louis and his family but either way, when the clock struck twelve he was guaranteed to break into tears. His first year in many that he can have his own say, his own mind and thoughts and actions. It’s a new start and maybe he needed to get fucking drunk so he wouldn’t have to deal with something so overwhelming.

He’s fucking free.

 

::::::::

 

Zayn wakes up blurry eyed and nauseous, on his back in an oversized mattress. The sun is blinding when he turns over, groaning at his throbbing head and his fingers grazing the sheets that feel too silky to be his own. There’s shuffling beside him and an arm thrown over his stomach and he nearly screams. He sits up fast, the arm falling to his lap heavily and his chest is heaving. He looks at the figure beside him, notices the shaggy black hair and rosy red lips and he heart hurls into his chest, a bile rising in his throat and he finds himself scrambling out of the bed, smothering a scream with pressed together lips and a hand pressed to his mouth. The man moves in the bed again when Zayn falls to the floor with a thump but he stays fast asleep. Fear still spreads through every vein in Zayn’s body and he’s frozen to the floor. His body feels heavy and chained and his brain is frantic.

He realizes he’s naked when a cold breeze from the cracked window sends chills along his skin. He looks around panicky and finds his clothes spread across the room on the floor. He quickly but quietly pulls on his clothes, ignoring the soreness of his body and pulls on his shoes. The boy in bed groans and mumbles something incoherently and Zayn speeds out the room, hurries through the flat with familiarity and finds the door easy enough.

He finds his car parked messily in front of the apartment building and fishes his keys from his pant pockets. Inside the car he locks the door and exhales deep and long, resting his head against his steering wheel in exhaustion and distress.

“ _Fuck_.” he hisses, his throat clogged and his body trembling. He struggles to get the keys in the ignition for a good minute before he can finally back out of his parking space and get onto the road.

He has to remind himself to keep his focus on the road more then once and he gets honked at when the light turns green but he stays planted to the spot.

When Zayn's finally safely inside of his flat he slumps against the door, breathes quickly and heavily and he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a panic attack. His head hurts so bad and he feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen in his body, he might just fucking pass out. He sobs, his nails digging into his stomach as he slides down the door, falling onto his aching bum. 

He distantly remembers a dark room and flashing lights and unsteady legs stumbling through a crowd of swaying bodies. He faintly remembers latching to a familiar face and a drink being pressed to his lips and then everything fades out. And now all he can think about is how stupid he is and that he should have never went out. He feels so wrong and violated and wasn’t this suppose to be a new year? A new start? Finally free, a new him? He feels like he’s back at the start and fuck, he messed up so bad.

Pulling himself up onto trembling legs, Zayn stumbles to the bathroom, grips the sink and grimaces at his reflection. He looks worse then usual, absolutely wrecked in the worse way, his hair pointing in multiple directions, his eyes sunken in and his cheeks hallowed. There’s purple bruises along his throat and collarbones and when he strips off his clothes, more scatter his thinning body but these are different, they’re not from lips and sucks, they’re from forceful hands and grips and he can unfortunately recall the stinging pain. He is truly disgusted with himself. How could he let this happen?

He showers with determination in his tired bones. He scrubs at his skin, at the fingerprint bruises and tries to scrub away all of Nathan but he still feels filthy when he gets out and looks at himself in the mirror again.

After what must have been an hour hunched over the sink, glaring and screaming at his reflection, he finally lugs himself to his room and onto his bed. He tucks himself under the sheets immediately and curls into himself, stares blankly at the wall across from him and drags bitten at nails along his legs absentmindedly, numbingly, never breaking skin but stinging enough that he doesn't think as much.

 

::::::::

 

His mobile has been ringing straight for what feels like ever. He’s not exactly sure how long but the sun is setting, casting orange and red shadows on his walls and he can’t bring himself to get out of bed and answer it. He can try to force himself out of bed but he doesn’t exactly have the will.

There’s a knocking on his door hours later, when the sun has disappeared and cold breezes are affecting the temperature in his room but he doesn’t answer, already knows that whoever it is will just walk in eventually. 

His door creaks open after a few minutes, “Zayn?” and he damn near burst into tears from the gentleness of that voice. “Harry said he’s been calling you but you haven’t answered and I got back this morning so I thought I’d come by and check on you.” Liam continues. His voice is getting closer and Zayn curls further into himself, bringing his blanket higher over his body to hide himself.

“Are you okay, Z?” he asks, sounding concerned now but Zayn doesn’t turn around, just closes his eyes and takes a trembling breath.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Liam’s really close now and his tone is soft and honest and it cracks a part of Zayn’s resolve.

He sucks in a breath, grips his sheets and mumbles a, “No.” defeated, before continuing with, “I made a mistake, Li, a bad mistake.” And his heart is in his throat. He’s not sure if he feels like such shit from his epic hangover that has cease to fade away or because he’s so fucked up over this morning. He doesn’t have much recollection of anything else last night besides spilling shot glasses all over his t shirt up until fondling in the loo but it’s obvious what happen after he found Nathan, after they left the club and he’s so fucking ashamed.

“What did you do?” Liam asks, sounding worried and hesitant now and there’s a dip in his bed and a hand touching his shoulder. He tenses, almost pulls away but it’s soft, it’s not meant in harm and he stays, relaxes in the touch.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you.” he says, his eyes wetting and his voice shaking.

He hears Liam sigh, then there’s shuffling on the bed, something hitting the floor and more moving around. He wants to turn and see what Liam is doing but then there’s fingers carding his sloppy hair and he’s not alone.

“I use to be an alcoholic.” Liam says, his words breathy and heavy and Zayn’s eyes flash open, his breath hitching. _What is he doing?_ “I know, I’m only 20, how could I have been an alcoholic already but in high school, I hung out with the wrong crowd, you know? I went to a lot of parties and drank my weight. It was really bad, my grades dropped, I skipped school, I lashed out a lot and I couldn’t go a day without a drink. I just turned into a whole other person.”

Zayn listens to Liam instead of the cracking of his heart. Liam sounds sad and regretful, ashamed and he wants to hold him. Not once did he ever think someone as perfect and kind as Liam had a tragic back story.

“When I was 18 I got my stomach pumped because my best friend at the time, Andy, challenged me to a drinking game and I had one too many. My parents were proper devastated. My mum was sobbing in the hospital, talking about how she didn’t want to loose me and what a good person I am, why me.” He says. He sounds choked and Zayn sits up, keeps the blanket tightly bundled around his bare body. He wants to reach out and grab Liam’s hand, comfort him somehow but he doesn't, not quite ready to remove himself from the safety of his blankets.

“They gave me a choice of AA meetings or rehab, I was reluctant, I didn’t necessarily want to get _'better’_ but I had to chose so I picked AA, of course. It was hard, like, really hard and I had a few relapses but with a lot of support, after a quite difficult year I could say that I made it. Of course an alcoholic is always an alcoholic even if they’ve gotten ‘better’ and haven’t had a drink in years, they’re still an alcoholic. They can fall right back into the addiction just as easy as before but I really am in a much better place then I was back then.”

A silence falls over them as it all sets in, as Zayn processes everything Liam had just told him. The air is heavy with questions Zayn wants to ask but overall, he just wants to know why Liam is telling him this. Of course, he’s not upset about it, he’s glad Liam trusts him enough to tell him this but why in this exact moment did he decide this was something he could confide in him?

“Why are you telling me this?” He asks softly, staring at the edge of his bed and clutching the blanket to his chest.

“Because it was a big part of my life and so are you so I feel like it’s important that you knew about it. I trust you enough to share my past with you and I know I wont regret it.” That surprises Zayn, it breaks something else inside of him, he’s not sure what but maybe it’s a wall because now he feels emotional and he suddenly wants Liam to know everything. He wants to trust Liam like Liam says he trusts him, he does but it’s just so hard and he doesn’t know what to do.

“I don’t know what to say.” he admits, his voice wavering and it’s stupid, he shouldn’t feel so emotional right now, Liam should be the one teary eyed, he just shared a difficult time in his life and here Zayn is being a fucking baby. He’s so pathetic sometimes.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Liam says and Zayn’s turns his head slightly, glances at Liam but looks away just as quick. “And just because I told you this doesn’t mean you have to feel obligated to share anything with me. I told you that because it’s important to me and there’s nothing you have to say anyhow, It’s over and I’m happy now.”

 _Good,_ he wants to say, _you should be happy, you deserve to be happy, you deserve everything and anything. I would give you the moon and the sky, the ocean and the sun if I could. I’d pack the stars into a pretty box and wrap it with a bow, give you the galaxy and all of it’s glory if I had the power. Anything you’d ever want, you deserve it all._ But he doesn’t say a single word.

His vision is blurry and he blinks back the salty tears. His throat is tight and there’s so much pressure in his chest. He feels overwhelmed and sad and trapped and he wants to spill everything. How can Liam make him want to spread his arms, rip open his chest and expose his everything yet run away and hide from him and the world all at the same time.

He swallows thickly and mumbles, “I... I want to trust you, Liam, please.” he’s not sure what he’s saying please too exactly, he’s just so desperate and confused lately, he’s stopped trying to understand himself a long time ago. He’s giving up on picking apart his mind because it always ends up a bigger tangled mess then it started out as.

“It’s okay, It’s a process, yeah?”

God, Zayn wants to claw his heart out of his chest because it’s feeling too many things. Liam’s so great and Zayn doesn’t know what to say, what to do so instead he nods and shyly says, “Do you think you can look away? ‘m only wearing boxers and I would like to put on some clothes.”

Liam laughs a little, scratches his jaw and nods his head, a light coloring to his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah sure, I wont look.” And he looks away so Zayn hesitantly and carefully removes himself from the bed with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders and digs around in his dresser. He finds sweatpants and a hoodie and just as he’s about to pull them on there’s fingers grazing his shoulder. He looks up quickly, his face forming a shocked expression as Liam flicks at the blanket, his eyes focusing on the colored bruises on his neck.

He freezes in place, his body loosing all function and his minds forgetting how to create intelligent thoughts as Liam fists the blanket and slowly pulls it off his shoulders, the fabric slipping and falling to the floor. The sounds of the blanket hitting the carpet wouldn’t even be noted by anyone else but the silence is so heavy, to Zayn, it sounds like a boulder crashing into the ground. Liam’s gasp is enough to bring him back into focus though and he’s horrified. He fumbles with his words, “ _Liam._ ” He ends up croaking, the name weak and strangled as he hunches into himself.

“Zayn,” Liam breathes with shocked eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… I knew you where hiding something from me but I didn’t- I mean, I never though… what happened to you?” Liam rushes and moves impossibly closer, his eyes only meeting Zayn’s for a brief second before flickering back to his body. Zayn steps away though, thinks _there are so many ways I can answer that._

Liam looks up startled and a bit guilty as he realizes Zayn is backing away. It’s not that he thinks Liam is going to hurt him, he just feels like a fucking cornered animal right now. He’s exposed, utterly exposed and he’s scared, terrified. He tries to hold the clothes to his body, cover the bruises and scars and scrapes but there’s only so much they can hide.

“Liam.” He repeats, as if it’s the only thing he can completely process right now. “You… you looked and I-I trusted that you wouldn’t.”

Liam flinches at the words, a look of pure guilt spreading across his face. “I know, I’m so sorry, Zayn but I… obviously something’s going on and it’s probably best that I did look.” he tries to reason but Zayn feels so violated and terrified and hideous. He wants to claw off his skin and burn the flesh. He wants the ground to crack open and swallow him, he wants to fucking die. He’s so ugly and embarrassed and his urge to jump out of his fucking window hasn’t been this caving inducing in a long while.

Once his body can catch up to his mind, he’s tugging on his clothes and choking back a sob. He can’t look at Liam, he can’t face him and he backs away as far as he can until his back is pressed to a wall and he’s cowering against it, his arms wrapped around himself defensively and his head bowed shamefully.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Liam asks softly and walks forward again. Zayn whimpers, tries to press further into the wall and memories of being in this exact position with someone else stalking towards him flash through his mind. Of course this person had unmerciful fists and horrible intentions, he knows Liam doesn’t but there’s always those stubborn _what ifs_ that cloud his mind. He never had thought Nathan would lay a harmful hand on him when they first met, never did it ever cross his mind when they laughed and licked chocolate ice cream off each others lips and fingers. He was so _so_ wrong. Who’s to say he’s not wrong about Liam?

(Deep down he knows that’s ridiculous.)

Liam’s directly in front of him now, looking down at him with these big, honest brown eyes and touching his face so gently and it might just damn near shatter him worse then any blow from Nathan. Liam might be a lot of muscles but he touches as if glass is under his fingertips. “How’d you get those scars?”

Liam moves in closer till his body is almost pressed to his and Zayn wants to fall into Liam, wants to finally give in and crumble, let Liam’s arms swallow him whole but he wont. He can’t. “How'd you get those bruises.”

Zayn whimpers, shakes his head and squeezes his eyes. “Liam, _please_.” He practically begs. He just wants him to forget it, to let the whole situation go and be forgotten before Zayn fucking caves which will be inevitable if Liam keeps looking at him like _that_ and touching him like _this_. Why can’t he just let it go?

“Tell me.” And it’s not a demand, it’s more of a request, it’s an option and Zayn finally sags into Liam’s body because he can’t hold himself back anymore. Liam’s arms immediately wrap around him in response.

“No.” Zayn mumbles, shaking his head against Liam’s chest. “No, no no no.” he repeats weakly, more telling himself so he can believe the answer, stay strong and not let his knees give out and his cries become audible. He’s frustrated with himself because he wants to tell Liam but he knows it’ll change things between them. He doesn’t want things to change. “ _No_.”

Liam brushes his hand along his back and noses at his temple. “Okay.” He says and he sounds understanding, not upset or irritated in the least bit and that possibly wounds Zayn’s guards even more. A wall is breaking, those, seemingly, impenetrable bricks weakening and crumbling to dust. And that’s aggravating in a way.

“Fuck, Liam.” He snaps, fisting Liam’s t shirt and squeezing his eyes shut, his frustration and exhaustion taking over. “I-I told you, Li, I made a mistake. I’ve made so many mistakes." Liam hums softly, encouraging him to continue. "I left my parents house early b-because I just couldn’t be there anymore, not with those looks my dad kept giving me and I went out last night because I’m fucking stupid and I got to drunk…" he pauses, swallows before choking out, "I-I slept up with my ex and I don’t even know how he found me or… or maybe I found him but…” he cuts off, not sure where he’s going with this and he’s just so confused and stressed.

“Did he do it?” Liam asks and his voice is still soft but there’s a discreet hardness to it. “He hurt you?”

“Yes.” he whispers, the confession choking him and tensing his body where it's practically trying to crawl inside of Liam's.

“Was it the first time?”

“No.”

Liam’s hold tightens around him before he says, “C’mon.” And leads him back to the bed. They sit down almost in the center and Zayn still stays glued to Liam’s side because he’s weak and emotional and Liam’s warm and secure. And he's pretty sure if he moves away, looks at Liam and the situation they're in, he'll realize what a mistake this is.

“How’d it start?”

Zayn wipes at his cheeks and stares at the sheets while he speaks. “Everything… everything was good at first, yeah? Great even, I can’t exactly pinpoint when things got bad. It all happened too slowly for me to actually pick up. It… it just started with the small insults and some yelling but like, it just got worse and then it was all too late.”

“You didn’t do anything to stop it?”

“It's harder then you'd think, Liam. I was… I was scared. Like, I use to fight back but that just got him more angry and after a while I was too scared to try to stop him. Harry didn’t find out for a while, not until he walked in one time. He was furious and kicked him out and that was my chance to get away but… I still loved him and through everything, I knew he still loved me too so I… I let him come back.”

Tears sting his eyes again but he blinks them back and keeps his body leaned into Liam’s side. “That’s not love.” Liam says.

“I thought it was.” he responds with honesty. He still believes Nathan loved him. He just didn’t handle that love properly. Maybe Zayn was just too much for him, maybe everything was just as much Zayn’s doing as it was Nathan’s.

“What about the scars?” Liam asks, hesitant but determined and this is the part that Zayn regretted most. He still hasn’t quite given up the whole self-harming thing and he’s kind of ashamed.

“The things Nathan said to me.” He starts, stops for a second to swallow because his throat is clogging and his voice is strangled as the words replay in his mind. “Awful things. I use to be an artist, you know? But he said things to me, told me I had no talent, he’d break my supplies and laugh at me so I just… I gave up just like he wanted.” he pauses again, scratches at his fabric covered thighs by instinct and swallows thickly.

“He called me stuff,” he continues. “Said I was worthless and... and all kinds of things. Everything-it all just really did a number on me. I can still hear them, the words but now they’re in my voice and that’s probably worse. I just… I needed something to help me and… that was it.” Tears are falling freely now and he’s shaking. He can’t believe he’s actually letting Liam see this part of himself. He feels too vulnerable and shameful but Liam tangles their fingers, squeezes his hand and he feels kind of safe and grounded. He feels like this is okay.

“Do you still… do it?”

Zayn closes his eyes, presses his lips together because he can’t answer that, can’t bring himself too. The silence is enough of an answer for Liam, he finds. He sighs and rubs his thump along the little bird tattoo on Zayn’s hand.

“And what about this eating thing? You don’t eat much, Z.”

Zayn shrugs, keeps his gaze on the floor as he speaks. “I just, I guess I’ve gotten use to not eating. He wouldn’t let me eat when he thought I was gaining weight or when he found me painting and decided to take the whole ‘starving artist’ label too literal. It’s not much by choice, not eating, I simply don’t have the appetite or i forget too because it was never a priority before.”

Liam’s quiet before he asks, “How did it end, then? Like, how’d you two break up?”

Zayn breathes deeply and thinks about it, thinks about how exactly he can answer that without sounding pathetic. He could lie, pull something out of his arse that will satisfy Liam’s question but he thinks about how much he’s already told Liam, all the secrets he gave him already and finds that there’s no point in keeping this a secret as well.

“I… I was really sad and I just… I didn’t know how to get out of the situation I was in. I just so hopeless and everything Nathan would do to me made it worse. I didn’t see any other out, I tried breaking up with him prior but he wouldn’t let me and finally I just, I tried to commit. Twice. ” The words sting on his tongue and he can remember everything as if it had all happened the day before. “That was the last straw for Harry apparently and after he bought me home from the hospital the second time, he made it his life mission to keep Nathan far away from me. I haven’t seen him since… until last night that is.”

He struggles to breath as his body shakes but Liam’s there and he’s comfort. It’s silent for a few heavy beats and during that silence, Zayn cries quietly, his heart hammering his ribs as he bites his bottom lips raw, his lips tasting of salty tears and blood. He just wants, _needs_ Liam to say something, anything before he snaps and runs to the bathroom and regrets everything. He can definitely see that as a good possibility.

Liam sniffs and breathes heavily. “I’m kind of speechless.” he finally says, his voice wavering and when Zayn finally looks up, he has his own tears in his eyes. He looks sad, upset and… and Zayn doesn’t know how to react to that.

“That’s okay, there’s nothing you can really say now, anyway.” _I’m too fucked up for your words to fix_.

“I get it now.” Liam gives a contemplating look, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze focused on the wall.

Zayn whispers, “Get what?”

“Why you’re so distant and reserved. You’re still stuck in there.” He says, his thumb rubbing Zayn’s temple gently. It’s nice, soothing. “At first I just thought you were shy but no, he broke you.”

Zayn hiccups on a breath and stares at Liam with wide eyes, his jaw slightly slack and his breathing shallow because yeah, Liam gets it. Zayn wouldn’t have necessarily used the word _broke,_ he feels that's a little extreme, but Nathan definitely messed him up and Liam understands that. Everyone assumes he’s arrogant, that he thinks he’s too cool and better then everyone else and that's why he keeps to himself but that’s not at all truthful. It’s pretty much the complete opposite of his actual opinion on himself, really. He just wished people would see that.

“Hey.” Liam says softly, a frown on his lips and his eyes sad. “Stop that.” he reaches over, grabs Zayn’s wrist and Zayn looks down at his fist. He opens hand, notices the pale complexion and the crescent shaped indents in his palm, the little patches of blood forming under the skin and he sighs. He hadn’t even realized. He never does.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice.” he apologizes and closes his palm, frowns at the floor.

“Don’t apologize. Have you eaten today?” Zayn raises his eyebrows in realization that he hasn’t touched a single food in days. He hadn’t noticed the sharp pain in his stomach either, he’s just grown accustom to being hungry.

He shakes his head.

“Stay here, I’ll go whip something together.” And in moments Liam’s weight is gone, his presence and he’s out of sight and Zayn feels cold and alone again. He grimaces at himself and crawls up the bed, wondering what he did to deserve a friend like Liam. Someone so understanding and nice and caring and he really doesn’t deserve it.

He climbs under the covers and buries his face in the pillows, asking himself mentally if the past hour actually happened, if he just imagined it all and a part of him wishes he did. The other half is just fucking relieved.

And when Zayn thinks about it, he feels less pressure in his muscles, on his shoulders and in his chest, as if confessing to Liam had released a burden. For years, Harry was the only one who really knew what was happening and what had happened, Louis had an idea, he was filled in on the basics because he deserved to know at least that much but he hadn’t known everything. Only Harry knew and Zayn often felt like a bother, like a burden himself when he fell apart and Harry had to put him back together. He had no one else to talk to though but now Liam knows, Liam knows and he understands and it helps. Of course, it’s going to take some time before he can turn to Liam for comfort, not only will he feel annoying but Harry has been his rock all his life. But if Liam is willing then Zayn wont keep too many secrets. And he’ll do the same for Liam.

He’s fighting it but he’s drifting off. His eyes are so heavy and they’re slipping but they fly open when a crash echoes through his flat. He sits up abruptly, tosses the covers off his body and jumps out of bed. “Liam?” He calls as he rushes out of his room with nerves spiked. It could be nothing but it also could be something.

When he reaches the kitchen he finds Liam crouched on the floor, his back facing him as he picks up broken glass. “Liam? What happen.”

“It’s okay, Zayn, just dropped it.” he says but his voice is strangled and forced and it doesn’t sound okay. “Go back to the room.”

Zayn walks closer slowly, crouches next to Liam and places a hand on his upper back, rubbing slowly. “What’s wrong, Li?” He urges softly, concerned and a little nervous.

Liam sighs and falls back on his bum, runs a hand down his face and Zayn notices the tear streaks running down his cheeks. His heart cracks a little. “It’s not fair, Zayn.” Liam answers, frustration and obviously in distress. Zayn’s confused and he waits for Liam to continue. “I just… why would he do that to you? How could he do that to you? Did that bastard not realize how lucky he was? It just pisses me off.” Zayn doesn’t have time to focus on the fact that Liam just cursed (and it’s kind of hot) or the rest of that sentence that sent tingles down his spine because fresh tears are falling from Liam’s eyes and it’s all his fault and he needs to fix this. And maybe Zayn made another mistake by telling him all that. Maybe Liam just can't handle this.

“Nathan had some problems.” Zayn reasons, desperate to explain Nathan’s actions so Liam will understand why he treated him the way he did. “He… he had anger issues and like, his mind didn’t quite work right. He couldn’t control-”

Liam snaps his head in his direction, a look of baffled and outrage in his features. “Are you defending him?”

Zayn breath hitches and he shakes his head fast, taking notice to how Liam does not like his method of calming him. “No, no of course not, I just…” he pauses, shakes his head again and says, “I’m not condoning his actions, I just-”

Liam exhales long and deep, his eyes narrowed and fist clenched. “Liam, look, look at me.” it’s a good few seconds before Liam finally looks at him, his eyes wet and red. “I’m okay. It’s over and I’m okay.”

Liam stares at him, tears still falling and stress etched into the dips of the worry lines on his forehead and the frown on his lips.

It takes him by utter surprise when arms are circled around his waist and he’s pulled from his spot. He almost squeaks when he’s put square on Liam’s lap and he stares at the boy with a look of bewilderment but Liam doesn’t look back, only holds tighter onto him, pulling him into his chest and buries his face in his neck. After a few beats Zayn settles into it, the tension in his muscles fading as he rubs Liam’s back with thin fingers and uses his other hand to card his fingers through Liam’s soft, growing hair. He doesn’t even mind that his neck is all wet.

It’s frightening how natural and comfortable this feels, sitting in Liam’s lap and holding him close. And there on the hard kitchen floor for christ sake yet he never wants to get up. It could be because he’s not exactly sat on the floor but he thinks it still counts. His heart feels warm and alive and he feels anchored and secured here with Liam. It just sucks because soon Liam will leave and he’ll never be this close to Liam again. His heart feels a little less alive now, kind of cold and he frowns, latches his arms around Liam a bit tighter and savors the moment while it last.

They stay like that for a while before Liam sniffles into his collarbone and says, “I never made you anything to eat.” and Zayn smiles fondly, runs his fingers along the short hairs on Liam’s neck.

“That’s perfectly okay, ‘m not that hungry anyway.” he convinces but Liam pulls his face out of his neck with a determined face. His eyes are little puffy but it’s cute and Zayn has to restrain himself from leaning forward and snogging the living shit out of him.

“No, you have to eat, Z.” he begins to stand up and Zayn has to smother a groan as he climbs off Liam because he did not want to get up yet.

Liam wipes at his eyes and starts digging around through the cabinets and Zayn sighs, frowns a little and grabs Liam’s wrist to stop him from pushing around cans. Liam turns, confusion and a little bit of irritation on his face and Zayn looks him dead in the eyes and says, “Are you hungry, babe?”

Liam pauses for a couple seconds before slouching a little and shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah but I can-”

“Go to my room, turn on the telly or something and I’ll make us something to eat, yeah?” Liam looks reluctant before huffing and nodding his head, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I have a feeling your not going to let me say no.” he’s smiling now, just a little but still there and it’s utterly beautiful and contagious.

“Trust your feelings, Li.” He responds with his own smile and he notices Liam’s smile falter, something flickering in his eyes but it’s only there for a short second before disappearing and his smile returning fully.

“I will.” he says, a strange new confidence in his voice and then he leans in, kissing Zayn right in the center of his forehead and leaves the kitchen without another word or glance.

And Zayn is left there in a daze for a good minute because what was that?

 

::::::::

 

He carries a tray of two plates and two soda cans into the room, grinning and trying to balance the food because Harry is very clumsy and that trait may have rubbed off onto Zayn a little lately.

“Nothing special, mate, Harry forgot to go grocery shopping, the irresponsible prick but-” he stops short, his nose scrunching at Liam who lays flat on his stomach, his chin pillowed in his arms as he stares at something intently. Zayn follows his gaze and his smile drops. He inhales, exhales and walks deeper into the room, sets the tray on his bedside table and plops onto the bed, his legs criss cross.

“What’s that box?” Liam asks, his stare still concentrated on the medium sized box on his dresser.

“ ‘s nothing, Li. Here.” he says, grabbing a plate and shuffling down the bed to sit beside Liam’s head. He lowers the plate and commands, “Eat.”

Liam smiles at the food and sits up, takes the plate and digs in but even with his mouth stuffed to the brim he asks, “Ca’ I loof init?”

Zayn tenses, tightens his jaw and stands up. He walks up to the box and grabs it, brings it to his closet and sets it far on the top shelf before shutting the door and settling back onto the bed with a blank look. He grabs his plate of food, avoids Liam’s eyes and flicks on the television.

“Okay.” Liam says slowly and they sit in a silence that is only tainted with the laughter soundtracks coming from the tv and the overplayed lines. He surprises himself by finishes his whole plate (though he didn’t serve himself as much as he did Liam, admittedly) and half his can of coke.

His phone rings when he returns from the kitchen after washing their dishes and he picks it up.

“What the hell, Zayn! I’ve been calling you and calling you and I’ve gotten shit! Where the fuck where you? I expect a damn good explanation!” Harry shouts over the phone, actually sounding pretty miffed and Zayn scratches the smooth skin of his jaw sheepishly.

“You’ll get one, Haz, just not now.”

“You, me, tomorrow. I expect a bloody grand reason on why you decided to go MIA the whole day.”

Zayn chuckles and nods his head though he knows Harry can’t see. “I can’t promise you a grand reason but you’ll definitely get something.”

“Is Liam there? I told him to try and check on you and to call me. Do I have to yell at him too?”

“Everything is fine, Harry, Liam is here, you don't have to yell at him.”

There’s a long pause before he hears Harry sigh and explain that, “He was the only person I could get a hold of.”

Zayn frowns and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, I know and it’s okay. Listen, we’ll chat tomorrow, yeah? ’m knackered.” Harry hums through the phone and says his goodnights before hanging up. He plugs his phone into the charger and sets in on the bedside table before dropping to the bed and exhaling nice and long.

“I think ’m just going for a smoke.” he announces before standing back up, finding his dresser and digging through to find his pack of Marlboro and his lighter. He avoids Liam’s eyes because he knows he’ll just see disapproving and smacks the pack against the palm of his hand as he exit’s the room, heading for the balcony and some fresh air.

He hasn’t had a smoke in a good while and the first hit makes him wonder why he would wait so long. He ends up smoking four cigarettes, his mind elsewhere, thinking about the day and last night and he’s stressing himself out and he should really have stopped thinking sooner but the cigarette calms him and helps him think a little clearly.

When he heads back inside after stomping out his fourth cigarette, Liam is fast asleep in his bed and it makes Zayn smile fondly. He puts his pack and lighter away and kicks off his pants hesitantly (because it's more comfortable sleeping without them on) before sliding under the covers and next to Liam. The television is off and the room is dark and he’s tense. It’s too quiet but a sleepy Liam mumbles something before moving closer and throwing an arm around Zayn’s waist. Zayn hesitates before deciding fuck it and turning on his side and stuffing himself into Liam. He hooks his legs with Liam’s and breathes in his sent, finds an overwhelming comfort that makes his heart want to burst.

Hints of a nightmare bared themselves that night but in his sleeping state he huddled closer to a solid chest and a weight pressed into him and they faded away. It was a dreamless sleep after that, dreamless but restful and it’s the best nights sleep he’s had in a long fucking time.

 

::::::::

 

He was worried things would be tense between them, that things would be forced and uncomfortable after everything revealed that night but if anything, it’s bought them closer. He’s not sure what but he’s pretty sure that night shifted something between them, broke a wall or maybe it just gave them a more of an understanding of each other. Like now, when Liam doesn’t drink his beer, Zayn knows why. When Louis opts for a night out and Liam chooses to stay in, Zayn stays with him because he understands why Liam wants to stay away from the club scene. When they go to a small pub and Liam orders a soda, Zayn understands.

And when Zayn crawls into himself, when he’s silent or leaves the room, Liam understands. It’s like, they don’t need to hide around each other, they just get it now, they can read one another a lot easier and that’s both troubling and relieving for Zayn. He’s use to being himself around only Harry but now when he’s stuck in his mind, when he feels like he might collapse, he looks at Liam and Liam is there and he fucking gets it.

They’re a lot more affectionate as well. Zayn was hesitant at first when Liam would sit next to him, his whole left side pressed to his right or when Liam would throw an arm around him or rest his head on his shoulder but after the first couple of days he started to reciprocate. There was one time Liam grabbed him by the hands and pulled him onto the couch with him, nuzzling his nose into his neck and Zayn begged himself not to blush when the lads whistled and made witty comments.

He’d be lying if he said he was completely comfortable about this too because he’s really not. He’s confused and nervous and kind of upset. Yes, he likes the affection, he loves being touched by Liam and being able to touch Liam but it’s hard when he wants so much more then those simple, platonic touches. And he knows it’s stupid to want because he’ll never get, Liam’s just not something, _someone_ he can get. He’s not exactly good enough for Liam and it’s clear as day so he just doesn’t get what’s going on. Not even his friendship with Harry is this physical and they touch _a lot_.

There’s times when Zayn thinks _maybe_ , like when Liam stares at him shamelessly with this look in his eyes as if he’s admiring something precious, something actually worth his attention or when he visits him at his job with a brown paper bag with food inside and makes sure Zayn eats while a grin covers on his face the whole time as if he couldn’t think of a better place to be but then Zayn always brushes it off because _impossible_ and _stop being ridiculous_.

 

::::::::

 

They’re at a small coffee shop and Zayn’s at the counter waiting for their orders while the rest of the lads sit in a booth across the shop when Niall slides over and leans against the counter. “So, wha’s goin’ on between you and Liam?”

Zayn’s eyes widen comically and he gives Niall an incredulous look. Niall's always been blunt but _this?_ Why must he be so blunt in public? “What?”

“You and Li.” he repeats. “I come back from Ireland and the two of you have practically been on top of each other all week.”

Zayn flushes lightly and distracts himself with grabbing a few napkins from the dispenser to give himself a few seconds to think of how to answer that. “I don’t know, Ni, nothing changed.” he answered, hoping it sounds as convincing as it did when he rehearsed it in his mind.

“Oi that’s just some epic bullshit. You two might as well fuck already, you’re half way there.” Zayn gasps, his face illuminating red and his head moving so fast in Niall’s direction he’s momentarily concerned it might snap right off.

“Niall! Jesus! ” He squeaks, his blush only intensifying when his voice cracks and Niall bursts out cackling and clutching his stomach, his face turning pink. He wheezes, his eyes wet and amused and Zayn scowls, takes their order when his name is called and steps around Niall, bitter and irritated.

“Zayn!” Niall calls, his name short lived and breathy because Niall’s still laughing. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s natural!” he continues, only amusing himself further and Zayn ignores him as he brings the food to their booth. He hesitates, almost takes Niall’s seat next to Louis because he doesn’t want to deal with more of Niall’s Liam bullshit but then Liam is looking at him expectantly and he succumbs to his puppy eyes and slides in next to him again.

“Niall is manic over there, looks like he’s choking or something?” Louis mentions, his words phrased in a question but he doesn’t look an ounce worried that his friend could actually be choking over there and Zayn thinks that really represents Louis’ attitude towards his life problems and responsibilities. Concerned only slightly, not enough to take action.

“He’s just being a twat, thought he was funny.” Zayn mutters and lifts his straw to the top of his mocha to suck the whip cream.

“I’m a comedian, Zayn, you just can’t appreciate being the butt of my jokes.” Niall responds, practically coming out of no where and sliding into the booth across from him. He nudges at Louis and he moves over, pushing into Harry who scoots to the right as well. There’s more then enough room for all three of them to fit with extra space but Zayn doesn’t mention it when they all end up squished together.

“It was hardly funny, Niall.” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Le’s just drop it, yeah?”

Niall huffs before agreeing and shoving his hands into the paper bag. “So lads, someone you know, male, intelligent, cunning, unfathomably attractive and incredibly talented, may have found a lovely bird to call his own.” Louis announces with a smug smirk and Zayn rolls his eyes fondly.

“The bloke doesn’t ring a bell, mate.” Liam says teasingly and Zayn almost chokes on his straw when he huffs an unexpected laugh. Louis scowls, his eyes pinched.

“Sounds like you’re describing me, yeah?” Harry adds with a cheeky smile and Zayn finds his mood lifting a fair amount as he watches Louis’ eyebrow twitch and his arms crossed defensively.

“Alright, you wankers, I just wont tell ya then.”

“If it means anything, I want to know who the lovely lass is.” Niall says, patting Louis’ arm encouragingly and Louis sits a little straighter, a smile forming as he opens his mouth to speak. “and where I'm meeting up with her.” the table erupts in laughter and Louis mumbles about _bloody tossers_ and _I hate all of you._

“Okay, who’s the lucky lady, Lou. We’re listening.” Harry says and Louis waits a few beats, probably waiting for Harry to add a slick comment but he doesn’t so Louis grins again and begins rambling about a girl called Eleanor with long brown hair and something about fashion school but Zayn tunes most of it out as he spins his straw slowly in his drink, watching the whip crème as it swirls in his cup.

“Here.” There’s a small nudge of his shoulder and a muffin lowered to meet his gaze. He looks up, eyes the muffin then Liam who is looking at him expectantly, a look in his eyes like he’s just waiting for Zayn to shrug him off and say he isn’t hungry. He takes the muffin with a surrendering sigh because he knows Liam will remind him that he hadn’t eaten all day (Liam is very observant of his diet these days) and insist that he eat it. But It’s a banana nut muffin and he likes banana nut so it isn’t all bad.

He bites into the muffin, warm and soft and chews generously. He watches Niall lick his fingers and pat his stomach, watches Louis blab about that Eleanor girl and Harry mop it all up with a fond smile. Liam interacts here and there but for the most part he sits back with Zayn and complains about his University work. Zayn listens, puts in his two cents here and there as he finishes off his muffin and keeps himself from lunging forward and licking all the words out of Liam’s mouth. He doesn’t think that would be very appropriate.

Liam’s telling him about this essay he has to finish and chewing on a biscuit when Zayn reaches up without thinking and grazes his thumb over the skin just bellow Liam’s bottom lip, brushing the crumbs off. Liam stops talking abruptly, takes a sharp intake of breathe and Zayn quickly realizes what he just did. He pulls his hand away quickly, flushes and fumbles with, “Sorry… you-you have some crumbs and I-sorry.”

Liam doesn’t respond and the air feels heavy around them, the lads are oblivious to the scene before them, their chatter background noise and Zayn wants to run out and throw himself in front of a moving vehicle. He chances a glance at Liam, still cherry in the cheeks and he finds that Liam is staring at him with parted lips and darkened eyes and _jesus_ , Zayn can’t exactly look away now. He’s concerned about the lack of oxygen circulating through his body but it’s hard to breath when your stuck in an intense staring match with a person you quite possibly might be falling madly in love with.

This is one of the moments that Zayn thinks _maybe_ , maybe Liam does (lord knows why) return some feelings, maybe not as deep or strong as Zayn’s but maybe something’s there. That would be enough for Zayn. But then a hand slaps down on the table and Louis is shouting, “I’m proper in love!” and it breaks that moment and Zayn’s back to _impossible_ because the look in Liam’s eyes is gone. Vanished. Forever quite possibly.

He notices the new light blush coloring Liam’s cheeks when he looks at Louis and back and Zayn secretly finds it kind of fucking adorable. He wishes he could make it known aloud, tell Liam just how adorable yet sexy and muscly he is. But he can’t and he wont unless he wants to get punched. (He knows Liam will never punch him but that’s what his mind keeps telling him would happen).

It’s moments later before Liam finally speaks, “I think your mocha is getting cold.” he says with a shy smile and Zayn forces a breathy laugh though his heart is in his throat and he doesn’t quite crave his drink as much as he craves Liam’s lips and hands. He still forces himself to sip down the rest of his beverage though, just to have something to distract himself with.

 

::::::::

 

January 9th.

Zayn was shocked, to say the least, when he opened his flat door and found Liam on the other side, grinning with a child in his arms and a diaper bag on his shoulder. His eyes bulged from there sockets and the first thing that came to his head was, _holy shit he has a kid_ but then Liam laughed, probably already expecting that kind of reaction, and announced that, “This here’s my niece, Maya. ‘m babysitting.” and Zayn exhaled long and deep, wanting to laugh at himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Come in.” He insists, moving out of the way and opening the door wider for the two to fit through. Liam peels off his shoes and walks deeper into the flat, finding the living room with ease and plopping onto the floor with the girl in his lap. Zayn follows and sits across from them on the floor as well, his legs criss cross and his hands folded on his lap.

He smiles softly and says, “She’s so small. How old is she?”

“14 months. She’s pretty tiny for her age though, her dads a small guy.” Liam answers, a laugh in his tone and Zayn puts his hands flat on the floor in front of him so he can lean a little closer to get a better look at the sleeping child. Her skin is pale, her cheeks naturally rosy and her blonde hair short and thin, clipped into two short ponytails. Her face is chubby and her eyelashes are long and curved. She’s a pretty baby and she looks like a little princess.

“She should be waking up soon.” he mentions when the girl stirs in his arms but doesn’t awake. “She sleeps a lot, more in short bursts though.”

“She’s beautiful.” he finds himself saying, his head tilting as he admires the little girl. He briefly remembers Safaa when she that small and chuckles to himself. What a little pain in the neck, she was.

“A riot too. Quite the personality, this one has.”

Zayn leans back to his spot and folds his hands again. He secretly wants to hold Maya but he’s not going to ask because that would be weird, right? “I love babies.” He says instead. “Couldn’t get enough of Safaa when she was one.”

“So, you want to have kids, then?” Liam asks, pushes stray hairs from Maya’s forehead.

Zayn raises his eyebrows in surprise at the question before giving it some thought and letting a small smile form on his lips as he speaks. “Yeah, a few. I kind of wanted to be a young dad, though. You know, start a family, get a house and a dog, the whole nine yards before I’m too old to toss a ball with my son or fight any guy that breaks my daughters heart.” He’s kind of rambling and he knows it, Liam only asked if he’d ever want to have kids but this is always a subject he gave a lot of thought but never really shared with anyone. It’s easier to share with Liam so he kind of gets carried away sometimes.

Liam smiles softly at him, his eyes sparkling. “Yeah, that sounds… that sounds nice.” he says breathy and they’re eyes stay locked as Zayn feels the air changing between them. Something joyful and soft and kind of, maybe intimate. These moments seem more frequent as of late and Zayn wishes he could understand what they meant.

Something is always there to ruin the moments though, like right now, Zayn feels warm and fuzzy and he wants to crawl into Liam’s lap too but the baby in Liam’s arms stirs and yawns and Liam breaks the eye contact in favor of Maya. The moment is forgotten and Zayn shivers, feeling cold and dull with Liam’s gaze off of him.

The girl blinks her eyes open, a bright hazel being revealed and she smiles up at Liam, a hiccup giggle escaping her small lips. Zayn looks at Liam, sees him smiling just as wide and he gets a flutter in his chest. There’s a bond between them, he can tell by the way they smile at each other, by the air around them.

“Why, hello there, lovely. Sleep well?” Liam asks, his tone gentle and affectionate. Maya giggles some more, sits up in his lap and touches the scruff along his face and Liam laughs, his eyes crinkling from joy. Zayn feels as if he’s intruding, like he’s invading their moment but then again, Maya did kind of invade their moment, she kind of owes him now.

“Maya,” Liam starts, cupping under the little girls armpits and lifting her off his lap and onto the floor. She sits with her short, stubby legs spread out in front of her, rubbing her eyes with her fists. “This is Zayn, Maya. He’s my friend.” Maya looks behind her and her eyes widen in surprise when they land on him before she’s dropping onto all fours and crawling towards Zayn with a curious eye. She stops right in front of him, going back into a sitting position and staring at him with fascinated eyes.

“Say.” she says curiously and Zayn feels a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“No, honey.” Liam says. “It’s _Zayn._ ”

“Say.” She repeats but with more determination this time.

Zayn laughs and insist that, “It’s okay, Safaa use to call me that too.”

He returns his attention back to the child in front of him and gives her his most friendly smile, it turning more genuine when she finally returns it. She has few teeth, small and a fresh white and it just makes her all that more adorable.

"Hello." she says, her tongue moving a little clumsy around the letters and Zayn beams.

"Hi." he says back.

“Say.” Maya repeats his name again, scooting closer and reaching a hand toward him. Zayn bends a little so she can have a better reach at whatever caught her interest and her chubby hands touch his fluffy hair, dropping to the edge of his eyebrows before slowly sliding down the side of his face. "She has a thing for faces." Liam laughs but it falls to deaf ears because Zayn's focused on Maya now.

Maya giggles and reaches her other hand to touch his eyelashes then his nose and his jaw. “Pretty.” she says and Zayn’s grin almost slips off his face _(not pretty)_ but he forces a breathy laugh instead as she continues to caress his face.

He swears he hears a hushed “Yeah” in the background but he quickly tosses away the possibility because that would just make things even more confusing. “Say is pretty.” she giggles before pulling her hands away and turning around. He watches her crawl back to Liam and stop next to the pink diaper bag beside Liam.

“Maya ea’?” she requests, her nimble fingers tugging at the zipper of the bag. Liam reaches over and unzips the bag, digs inside and pulls out a plastic tupperware and a blue rubber spoon.

“Can you hold this, Zayn?” Zayn nods his head and takes the food and spoon so Liam can stand and lift Maya from the ground. He brings her to the table and pulls out a chair, sitting her down and setting a chair in front of her and sitting on it himself. Zayn hands the stuff over and Liam uncaps the tupperware and begins feeding Maya.

It seems macaroni isn’t exactly one of Maya’s favorite and she’s reluctant, puts up a bit of a fight but she finishes the food. She drinks apple juice from a blue sippy cup Zayn fished out of her bag and when she’s finished she struggles to climb out of the wooden chair. Liam lets her do it on her own, both of them watching as she grips the chair tightly and uses it to keep herself standing.

“There you go, babe, now let go.” Liam urges, standing from his chair and standing beside her. Maya looks at him hesitantly and removes one hand from the chair. Her short, chubby legs wobble beneath her and Liam holds his hands out close to her in case she falls. Zayn watches with adoration, wishes he could step over and encourage her as well but that’s not his place so he stands back and watches anxiously.

Maya removes the other hand, quickly tries to take a step but she’s falling back onto her bum with an _umf_ and pouting. Zayn discovers the puppy lip pouting charm must run in the family. Her eyes well with tears and Liam crouches down, takes her hands and kisses the roof of them. “Good job, Maya. That was wonderful.” Maya smiles a watery smile and mimics Liam’s actions, kisses the roof of his hands.

 

::::::::

 

Maya is a riot. She can’t form full sentences yet, her words more jumbled and incoherent but she has attitude and personality for days and Zayn truly enjoys playing barbies and action figures with her even when Agent Barbie beat up Spiderman, it was great. He felt extremely domestic sitting on the floor with Maya and Liam, playing and laughing and even helping Liam change her diaper. And he really freaking loved it.

Maya got tired again two hours after eating and begun to lull off sitting up and Liam nudged him, laughing and Zayn joined in, reached forward to brush a hand over her soft hair. “She’s spent.” he says.

“Can I set her up in your room?”

“Of course, I’ll clean up.” Liam gives him a grateful nod and is off seconds later, Maya cuddled in his arms clutching a stuffed dog to her chest as they disappear into Zayn’s room. Zayn gathers all the toys from the floor, placing them carefully into the baby bag, nice and organized because who wants a destroyed mess in their bag. He finds the tupperware and empty sippy cup still on the table and takes them to the kitchen sink to clean them. He’s drying them off with a rag when a chin is hooked over his shoulder and an arm slips around his waist. His chest flutters in response.

“You’re really good with Maya. I think you’ll make a great father, Z.” Liam tells him, his breath tickling his neck and his chest just barely touching Zayn’s back but he can still feel the solid and he wants to push back and feel him fully against him. He doesn’t of course.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice with my sisters.” Zayn admits. “And she quite adores you, the best uncle you must be.” _You’ll probably make a better father too_ , he thinks, _No, Zayn, not allowed to think shit like that._

“Love her a lot.” Liam whispers. Zayn places the dishes on the counter and opens the cloth up, smoothing it over the countertop and smiling small.

“Up for some movies and popcorn?” He offers weakly, his eyes fluttering shut suddenly at the feeling of Liam’s eyelashes tickling along his jaw and his nose brushing his neck. It takes his all not to shiver.

Liam’s thumb presses into his hip lightly, just a soft pressure and he answers, “Sounds good.” in a hushed tone and _what is this?_

The air is thick all of a sudden and he can’t take a full breath. “Okay.” he chokes, taking quick and shallow breathes, hoping Liam doesn’t notice.

“Zayn…” Liam whispers, low and husky and _shit shit shit_ , Zayn’s not strong enough to resist this kind of temptation. He’ll cry and deal with the consequences later but right now he spins around quickly and crashes himself into Liam’s chest with force that sends Liam steps backwards and connects their lips, sighing at the relief that comes with it.

He nearly squeals into Liam’s mouth when he response almost immediately, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s waist and stepping foreword. Zayn steps with Liam and encircles his neck, gripping his hair and coaxing Liam’s mouth open. His back is pressed into edge of the counter and he lets out a little gasp of surprise but he can hardly care right now because _Christ_ , he’s kissing Liam Payne and Liam Payne is kissing him back just as eager.

Liam’s tongue is a gift, licking and twisting and Zayn moans into the kiss because _god, yes_ and Liam hands slip under his shirt, his thigh fitting between Zayn’s legs as he presses closer. His mind is foggy and his body is buzzing as Liam pulls back, biting his lip before kissing along his jaw and neck, sucking and biting and he whimpers, digging his nails into Liam’s back.

Zayn’s hard in his pants and he roles into Liam without a single intelligent thought in his head. Liam returns to his lips, kissing him long and hard and moaning, “ _God_ , Zayn.” onto his lips. Hearing Liam’s voice so raspy and rough, feeling him just as hard against his thigh, it only makes him grind just as desperate into Liam again. He would be embarrassed too if he wasn’t so fucking gone already.

Zayn slides his fingers under Liam’s shirt, running his dull nail lightly along his chest and the indents of Liam’s abs before tugging at the hem and urging the clothing off of his body so he can properly appreciate the sculpting of Liam’s torso. His body is solid and smooth and there’s short dark hairs trailing from his belly button inside the waistband of his pants.

Zayn only hesitates for a second before he summons enough strength to turn them around so Liam’s pressed to the counter. He hesitates again but only for a quick beat before cautiously running his fingers along the bulge in Liam’s jeans. Liam’s hips buck in reaction and Zayn takes that as the yes he was waiting for and cups him, pressing and messaging as he sucks quite a few good coin-sized bruise into his neck and chest. Liam moans and ruts against his hand, desperate and Zayn takes pride in that.

He pulls away but before Liam can whine and protest like he looks he wants to, Zayn drops to his knees and looks up at Liam through his eyelashes (he knows the power that move possesses). His fingers flick at the button of his jeans, asking for permission without actually speaking. Liam’s eyes are blown and wide as he stares down at him.

“Shit, Zayn, god  _yes_.” he rushes and just as Zayn’s undoing the button Liam grabs his wrist. “Only if you want to.” he says.

Zayn nearly rolls his eyes but then he notices the seriousness in Liam’s, how much he needs to hear that this is something Zayn wants to do so he only gives a small smile and says, “I want too.” and that’s seems to be all the reassurance Liam needs.

He unbuttons his jeans, pulling at them and exposing black boxer briefs underneath and Zayn trails his lips lightly across Liam’s bulge, causing the boy to quiver. Zayn glances at him, trying to suppress a smug grin when he sees Liam’s eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving and his grip on the counter, whitening his knuckles. Zayn almost wants to laugh but instead he busies himself with tugging Liam's underwears down as well and exposing his cock. Zayn swallows thickly, stares excitedly at Liam’s dick because shit, it’s long and thick and there’s so many things he’d love to do with it. But right now he has one focus so he gathers salvia, slicks his palm before grabbing the base and licking a stripe along a vein, pumping him with his fist. Liam groans above him and he flicks his tongue over his slit a few times before taking the head into his mouth.

He hasn’t done this in while, not since Nathan but he remembers all his tricks that use to drive the man crazy and he plans to use them but right now he has to get back into gist of this. Liam’s making all kinds of sounds above him and they sound delicious to Zayn’s ears as he takes him in deeper. He relaxes his throat, lets his jaw go slack as he ignores the little tears in the corner of his eyes and continues to take him all in.

He’s not sure if he’ll be able to deep throat him at this exact moment so he pulls back, dragging his tongue and sucking along before going back in. He removes his hand from Liam’s dick and buries it deeper into his throat, almost getting all of it but not just yet. He grips Liam’s hips and continues to suck him, finally relaxing his throat muscles completely and fully taking him in.

“Fuck, Zayn.” Liam hisses, bringing his hand down and gripping his hair. Zayn hums around his cock and swallows before continuing. He uses his grip on Liam’s hips to urge him to move them and Liam’s grip on his hair tightens. He’s surprised by how much he likes it, he wasn’t to fond of that when Nathan pulled his hair but it feels a lot different when Liam does it.

“ _Shit_ , Z.” He says breathlessly. “Are you sure?” Zayn hums his answer, urging Liam to move again and he finally does, hesitantly thrusting forward. Zayn takes it like a champ as Liam’s thrust become more confident, moving along with him as he pumps in and out of his mouth. Liam is making precious sounds that Zayn will most likely replay every night, torture himself with but right now it’s kind of amazing and he’s pretty fucking hard right now.

“I-I’m close, babe.” Liam announces, tugging at Zayn hair to pull him off but Zayn lifts a hand, swatting at Liam so he’ll quit trying to yank him off. Liam’s already fucking his mouth, it’d be really fucking pointless if he stopped now just because he was going to come. Zayn can take it.

He comes with the sound of Zayn’s name escaping his lips loudly. It’s a bit of a struggle but Zayn swallows most of it, just little bits slipping down the corner of his mouth when he pulls off with a pop. Liam grips his arm and tugs him up so he’s standing. Zayn’s jaw is aching and his lips are swollen but he’s smiling lazily, flushed red and trying to lick at the come at the corners of his mouth. Liam looks absolutely wrecked as he swipes the come with his thumb and Zayn licks it off.

“Jesus.” he breathes before pulling Zayn in for a long kiss. Zayn is quickly reminded of how hard he still is when he’s pressed into Liam’s body and Liam realizes just as quick, pulling back with a look of sudden realization on his face. “Fuck, Z, I gotta get you off too.” he says, switching their positions and pulling at Zayn’s jeans.

“You don’t have too.” He finds himself saying probably from nerves. He hasn’t had anyone down there in a long time. Nathan was always a taker, not a giver, always getting himself off without any concern for anyone else’s needs. Nathan always fucked him quick and raw and only touched his prick on occasion, Zayn having to do all the work in that department. Zayn hasn’t gotten a proper hand job or a blow since the early stages of their relationship. But he’s not about to go admitting that to Liam, though.

“I want to, at least lemme just-” and Zayn sucks in a breath when Liam’s hand slips into his jeans, under the waist band of his underwear and grabbing hold of his cock. He groans, lifts his hands to grip Liam’s shoulders as the boy uses his pre-come to pump him with ease, thumbing at his slight and squeezing at just the right times. Zayn can’t help but move along with his hand, moaning into Liam’s neck. Liam’s other hand urges him back though so he can tug down the hem of his shirt and his sucks along his collarbones, nip at his chest and lick at his nipples. It feel sensational.

When Zayn comes he bites down on Liam’s shoulder, strangles what a could have been an embarrassing noise in the back of his throat. He’s seeing stars as Liam wipes him down and he slouches into Liam when he throws the rag into the sink. Liam’s (now clean) hands run through his hair and both their chests move against each others, both boys trying to regulate their breathing again.

Zayn’s pretty sure there’s no going back from all of this. He’s fucking wrecked. He’s gotten the taste of Liam (literally) and he knows he’s not going to just be able to never do something like this again. There’s no going back to normal, not for him at least. That’s just something not possible for him. His stomach sinks at the thought, his heart shriveling and crying out,  _No!_ behind his ribs.

“That was way better then I ever imagined.” Liam breathes and Zayn smirks against his skin.

“So you’ve imagined this before.” he teases, doesn’t exactly know where it came from but Liam laughs and uses his grip on his hair to gently pull his face out from the crook of his neck. Liam kisses him, slow and soft and there’s a bright fire in Zayn’s chest, fireworks behind his eyelids.

When Liam pulls away he says, “Does that answer your question?”

Zayn hums, gives a contemplating face before deciding that, “Nope, it’s still a little fuzzy. You should be a little more clear, Liam.” he answers cheekily and Liam grins, his cheek pushing up and his eyes crinkling before he leans back in, kissing him again.

It’s kind of unbelievable, the days turn of events. He had woken up exhausted and sweaty from a night of nightmares to an empty flat and a sticky note from Harry telling him that he’s out with Grimmy for the day and he’d be back later. So, Zayn was alone and bored and sad just curled on the couch and expecting the rest of his day to be shit. But then Liam shows up with a kid and turns his whole mood around and now their in his kitchen making out. He definitely didn’t expect this today… or ever.

And kissing Liam, the way their lips slide together and their bodies slot so perfectly, it’s incredible. Kind of mind blowing. He just hopes his mind doesn’t get the better of him.

“So, how ‘bout that movie?” Liam mumbles and Zayn laughs against his lips, wraps his arms around Liam’s waist and runs his hands along his back.

“I’ll make the popcorn.”

 

::::::::

He doesn’t know what any of this means, he doesn’t know if this is just a one time thing, if this is all temporary, if Liam will wake up in the morning and regret everything, quickly come to his senses and remember that Zayn isn’t anything good but he still enjoys the moment anyway. He takes advantage of what he can, squeezed onto the couch with Liam, every part of their body touching while watching Superman Returns and eating salty popcorn.

“It really bothers me that Richard doesn’t find out Jason is really Superman’s son.” Liam tells him, disappointment in his tone as they watch the little boy on screen, Jason, being hugged by Richard, a man whom he believes is his father.

“Well,” Zayn starts, “When you think about it, he has to find out sometime considering Jason has superstrength. It would be revealed eventually.”

Liam huffs before retorting with, “I just don’t like when there isn’t a happy ending.”

 _There’s not always a happy ending, mate_ , he wants to say. “At least Superman knows. Plus, he lives at the end. I thought he actually died when i first saw it. But no, he lived and that’s happy enough, yeah?” he responds instead.

“Yeah.” Liam sighs, tangling their fingers together and mumbling, “At least he lived.”

And those words feel oddly heavy.

 

:::::::::

 

Maya wakes up not long after. They don’t get to finish their movie because she’s cranky and Liam has to take her back to his flat to give her a bath and bring her to his mothers house where she’ll watch Maya overnight. Zayn is secretly wishing Liam will come back, spend the night with him but he’s too scared to ask so he watches as Liam fits the girl into her coat, stuffs her hair into a beanie and hikes the diaper bag over his shoulder.

He walks them to the front door, his nerves suddenly rising and his mood dimming significantly. In the doorway Liam stops, turns to look at him with remorse, as if leaving is the worse thing he could think of doing right now. Zayn fiddles his hands, rings his fingers and gulps, tries to make his disappointment and fear discreet. When Liam walks out that door, everything will change again. It will be back to the way it use to be and he’ll never be allowed to touch Liam the same way again, to kiss him and be so close to him. He really doesn’t want that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” _Don’t bother_ , Zayn thinks sadly but he forces a small smile and agrees. Liam looks contemplative, nervous even before he steps forward and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth and leaving his flat.

Zayn shuts the door and leans against it, wants to scream and bang his fists into it because it’s just not fair but he settles with blinking back tears and yanking hard on his hair. He wishes he could say he regrets it all too, that he wishes today never happened because then he wouldn’t know how it felt being with Liam like that but that’s just it. He doesn’t regret it because then he would have never known how it felt to touch Liam, to be touched by Liam and he can’t imagine that. It’s possibly more painful this way but he supposes it’s better to say that he’s been there rather then saying he’s never been there before.

It just fucking hurts though.

 

:::::::: 

 

“We kissed.” Zayn finally confesses, his hands under his thighs and his chest caving. Harry is sat on the floor putting together what is suppose to be a shelf he bought with Grimmy today but right now is just a mess of scattered wood and nails. Harry refuses to use instructions too, either he’s too lazy or too cocky for them but both ways, it just results in frustration and mumbled curses. There was even that one time Harry was so pissed and distracted while trying to put together their old kitchen table that he hot glued his fingers together.

Harry’s ears perk up, his eyes widening. “You’re going to have to be more specific, babe.”

“We kissed. Me and Liam, we kissed.” He repeats nervously, his voice shaking and his eyes wide and frightened because holy shit, he’s telling someone and that makes it feel so real.

The wood and hammer drop from Harry’s hands, his head snapping in Zayn’s direction. “What?” he gasps. “When?”

“Today.”

“You kissed today?”

“Well…” he starts carefully, “It was a bit more then kissing.”

Harry jumps up at that, his jaw practically dropping to his knees. “You shagged!” he shouts, “Jesus! You totally fucked? Oh my god!”

Zayn turns a crimson red at that, his eyes widening in shock as he fumbles for words. “N-no, Harry! God, no we didn’t… we didn't do that!”

Harry cuts off, his body visibly relaxing. “Oh.” he breathes but his eyes still scrunch in confusion. “Then what did you do?”

“I blew him.” He answers, vomiting the words before he could chicken out and beg Harry to forget the subject.

“You-you blew him?” Harry repeats, bewilderment etched into his face as he stares at Zayn. “Well damn. How big was his prick, then?” he asks with a cheeky smirk.

“Harry!” Zayn squeaks, his face heating some more. Harry laughs hard and crosses the room, sits beside him and throws an arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, ‘m your best mate, you can tell me.” He pushes, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. It makes it a little easier for Zayn to breath, Harry and his immaturity and he finds himself relaxing into his friends side.

“Big.” He breathes, chuckling a little. “Like, porn star big.”

Harry laughs, pats his shoulder and tells him, “You are going to be one lucky bastard, then.”

“No, it was a one time thing.” he mutters.

“What? He said that?” Harry asks, visibly upset.

Zayn shrugs, lowers his eyes to the floor and ignores the pain in his chest. “Well, no.” He sighs. “But it’s true. It was just something in the heat of the moment. It’s not going to happen again.”

“It’s not going to happen again or you’re not going to let it happen again?” Harry tests and Zayn scrunches his nose, his nails biting into the back of his thighs.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds, mate.”

“Both.” Zayn bites out, pushing away from Harry and creating a distance between them on the couch that still feels too close. He crosses his arms, brings his knees to his chest and glares at the floor.

“Why?”

“Why does it matter, Harry! Can you just drop it?”

Harry scoots closer, puts a hand on his knee and says, “No. Not until you really tell me why.”

Zayn’s frustration grows along with his insecurities and he wants to pull out his hair. “You want to know why? Why it wont happen again? Why Liam will never love me back?” He bursts out, the words a little strained. “I can give you a list of everything wrong with me, I can write you a bloody novel if that’s what you really fucking want!”

“Zayn-”

He stands up now, his shoulders tense and his fist clenched. “What if Liam’s just the same as Nathan, anyway?”

“Zayn-” Harry repeats a little more stern.

“What if he’s nice to me at first but then he just turns around and hurts me too! I don’t want it! I don’t want him! I don’t anyone! I just want to be by myself!” He yells, his eyes blurring and tears falling down his cheeks. He’s just spewing bullshit, yes, a part of him is still cautious of peoples motives but a bigger part of him knows Liam will never hurt him intentionally but it’s a lot easier letting himself disregard the good in people rather then dealing with the knowledge that he’ll never be good enough for him.

“Zayn,” Harry sighs, standing in front of him and cupping his shoulders. “Not everyone is out to hurt you, love. And Liam? He wouldn’t harm a fly.”

“I thought the same thing about Nathan. I was really fucking wrong, huh?” he laughs bitterly, humorless.

He knows he’s pushing Harry’s patience, Harry hates when he speaks so negatively. He hates talking about Nathan more and this conversation consist of both. “Stop, Zayn. Liam is nothing like Nathan and you know it. I don’t understand why you’re speaking like this… is this how you really think? I know you don’t trust a lot of people but you don’t honestly believe everyone’s trying to hurt you, do you?”

Harry eyes are sad and honest and Zayn drops his head, already warn out from this conversation. “No, I know, Haz. I just… I'm just having a little freak out. Today's been... something. Sorry.”

Harry pats his back and pulls away, kisses his forehead and telling him it’s alright and returning to his (unnecessarily) difficult task of putting together a wooden shelf.

And Zayn goes to his room, feeling Harry's worried gaze following him as he goes.

 

::::::::

 

It’s a difficult night, to say the least. His bed feels cold and big and his room is a lonely darkness. He’s alone and his mind runs freely, reminiscing on the early day events. He can still feel Liam’s lips against his own, the smooth, wet skin. He can still feel the pressure of his hand touching him and his fingers tugging on his hair. At one point he even drags himself out of bed and to the loo, stares at himself in the mirror and presses his finger tips into the purple bruises on his collarbones with fascination.

It’s two in the morning and his blunt nails are dragging roughly along his stomach, his throat tight and his mind relentless. He’s so tired but he knows he will not be falling asleep anytime soon if he can’t switch his thoughts off. He has yet to find a way to do so.

There’s a loud banging echoing suddenly through the flat causing Zayn to jump but he doesn’t move, stays put and waits for Harry to answer the door. The knocking continues though, frantic pounding and Harry shouts, “Zayn! Get the door!”

Zayn groans and climbs out of bed, feeling a bit homicidal towards whoever the hell is pounding down his door at two in the morning. He pulls on a shirt, tugs on his pants and heads to the door where the banging has only intensified and swings it open.

“What the fu-” he cuts off, blinking frequently at the person standing on the other side to be sure he’s seeing correctly. “Liam?”

“I’m sorry, it’s really late… early… whatever, but I just-I needed to see you and do this again.” Liam sounds breathless as if he ran here and his eyes are wide and intense.

“Wha-” and Zayn’s interrupted by the insistent press of Liam’s lips against his own. He’s surprised for a good second before he responds, pushing back and fisting the front of Liam’s shirt. He doesn’t exactly understand what’s going on, why Liam’s here and kissing him but he goes with it because he never thought he’d get a chance to do this with Liam again and here it is, presenting itself and he plans on taking advantage. He knows he told Harry he didn’t want Liam, didn’t want this to happen but shit, it’s hard to think that way when he’s in the position. Harry’s totally gonna shove that right in his face. Okay, he probably wont but he’ll at least smile smugly at him.

Their tongues are sliding together and he glides his hand to the back of Liam's neck, moving closer and pressing their chests together. Liam pulls him impossibly closer, till every frontal part of their bodies are touching and yes, that is good. The oxygen in Zayn’s body is leaving him quickly though, but he doesn’t want to pull away yet, he wants this moment to last as long as he can make it last so he waits till the very last second to disconnect their mouths, pink in the face and gasping.

Their breathing each others air, still dangerously close, their noses brushing and foreheads pressed together as they stare at each other. Zayn is at a lost for words, too many questions but no idea how to phrase them or which one to ask first. He’s depending on Liam to speak first because right now, his words will only come out as a jumbled mess.

“Do I have to leave now?” Liam whispers, his eyes lidded and his tone nervous and uncertain, as if he’s scared Zayn will actually make him leave. It strengthens something inside of him. Hope, maybe.

“No.” Zayn answers, lets his hand drop and tangle his fingers with Liam’s. “You don’t.”

“Good.”

 

::::::::

 

The night goes rather smoothly after that. Zayn still felt skeptical and immensely insecure when Liam chucked his shirt and climbed into bed because his body is built and broad and Zayn is small and bones. But then when Zayn lays down Liam turns on his side, throws a securing leg and an arm over Zayn’s body and stuffs his face in his neck, breathing deeply and grazing his lips over the skin, Zayn feels fuzzy inside. He feels… _wanted,_ if he dares. He wont say that aloud though because then he could jinx the possibility.

Liam heavy on him but the weight is very much welcomed and he holds him tight but not a painful tight, not a tight that is uncomfortable, a perfect kind of tight that makes him feel safe and grounded. And when Liam’s this close to him, breathing him and clutching him like this, he doesn’t worry too much about all of the flaws that normally eat at him daily, he doesn’t feel as ugly and undesirable. And it’s kind of nice.

“I sleep better with you.” Liam mumbles into his neck, the low murmur breaking the easy silence in the room.

“Me too.” Zayn admits, his cheeks warm and his voice shy.

“When I’m with you, I know you’re okay.” Liam confesses groggily and this both crushes Zayn’s chest and tickles his stomach.

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He finds himself saying though the thought of Liam caring enough about him to worry when they’re apart makes him feel kind of good, loved to a certain extent.

“Can’t help it.” Liam replies and in seconds his breathing evens out.

Zayn follows him soon after.

 

::::::::

 

He feels the presence of a body before he can even open his eyes. It’s big and sturdy and it’s running a hand up and down his back. Usually he’ll wake up with a knot in his chest, tight and suffocating, the thought of going through another day but right now he feels light and airy, his chest feels loose and his body relaxed.

It’s different too, from the other times Liam has slept in his bed. Both those times he had woken up first and immediately crept out of the room without so much as sparing Liam a glance. But this time he’s slack against Liam, awake but his eyes closed and letting the moment draw on.

But then memories of the day prior clutter his mind and his breathe hitches, his cheeks turning red. He untucks his face from where it’s found home in Liam’s chest, regretfully, and roles over, groaning and catching Liam’s arm under his back but he doesn’t have it in him to worry about that, he’s too focused on what he did last night and the feeling of being exposed in the daylight.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Liam’s voice is husky but light and a bit sarcastic, and Zayn peaks an eye open, his vision taking a moment to recover before focusing on Liam’s lazy smile and lidded eyes. The sun is casting a bright shadow over Liam and he looks as if he’s glowing. His hair is ruffled and he has thin stubble along his jaw that has only grew little over the night and this amount of gorgeous is not something Zayn can handle at this time in the morning so he closes his eye again. “It’s 11:30, don’t tell me you’re still tired?”

 _I’m always tired,_ he thinks. “I slept in.” he mentions instead, slightly surprised because through the years of troubled sleeping, he hasn’t slept late once. “How long have you been up?” Zayn asks and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Not very long.” Liam answers and Zayn nods his head, runs a hand through his embarrassingly shaggy bed head and throws the blanket off of him. He stands, stretches his arms and back and turns, finds Liam’s eyes traveling along his body and fidgets self consciously. He looks at the bed instead of Liam’s eyes when he says, “Be back.”

And leaves the room with his head bowed. In the bathroom Zayn takes a much needed piss and brushes his teeth. He looks at himself in the mirror, chokes on saliva when he notices the purple marks on his skin. He’s tempted to try and hide them but it’s likely that Liam has already seen them. So instead he wets his hands and tries to make his hair look at least half decent. His face is pale and he pushes at his cheeks with his fingertips, frowning. He splashes his face with some cool water, hoping to bring some form of life to his eyes and skin and grabs the mouthwash, gargling and spitting before leaving back to his room.

“We don’t have any extra brushes,” He announces once inside his room, Liam still sitting cross legged on the mattress. “But we have mouthwash, if you want to use that.” he stands in the middle of the room, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes flickering everywhere else to avoid Liam’s eye. He can’t look at him without flushing and hearing those sinful moans in his ears again. That only makes him blush worse.

“Okay.” And Liam stands, grey joggers hanging low on his hips and his chest bare. Zayn’s eyes widen comically, blushing hard when he notices the few bruises scattered across Liam’s chest and neck, knowing exactly where they can from and he tears his eyes away quickly, wanting to sink through the floors from embarrassment.

(He likes it secretly, makes him feel as though Liam is his. That’s some possessive shit he doesn’t give a second thought)

When Liam leaves Zayn lets out a long exhale and drops face first into his mattress, groaning heavily though it’s muffled by his sheets. He turns over, scoots a little higher so his feet don’t dangle off the bed, his body sprawled out now and his eyes squeezed shut. A part of him hopes Liam doesn’t return, runs out the flat and doesn’t come back because Zayn hasn’t got a single clue as to how this is going to turn out and he’d much rather ignore the situation then deal with it. 

Seconds after contemplating whether or not _he_ should get out and run, the light behind his eyelids dim and he senses something above him. So, curiosity peaked, he opens his eyes only to have the air swept from his lungs and a squeak trapped in his throat.

“Liam-” He croaks, staring up at Liam’s wide brown eyes.   
  
“I’m not exactly sure how to approach this subject,” Liam starts, talking quietly and hesitantly. “I’ve never been to good with words when it came to this stuff but um, I’ve been thinking… about yesterday, yeah?”

Zayn swallows thickly, blinking up at Liam as he nods his head, choking out a, “Yeah.”

“And I just-I really like… kissing you.” He breathes before shaking his head and laughing but it sounds humorless. “Sorry, that wasn’t what I was going to say. It’s true, yeah, but no, I wasn’t going to say that.”

Zayn licks his lips nervously, struggles for words but can’t find any, probably wouldn’t even be able to speak them if he could. And Liam continues, “I was going to say… I really like you. I really, really like you.” his breathing quivering and his eyes are wide and Zayn doesn’t understand _why_.

There’s a second where Zayn is doubtful, where he wants to shove Liam off of him and demand to know why he would lie about something like that, play with Zayn’s feelings, rant about how he thought Liam was better then that but Liam continues to stare into his eyes, his own holding a strong hopefulness and nervousness. And that stutters Zayn’s heart.

“Really?” he asks and he hates how small and childlike he sounds. The air is thick and heavy around him and he feels like it might be crushing him down.

“Yes, Zayn, yes.”

And now the need to know why overwhelms the burst of happiness in his chest and the fluttering in his stomach. The need to ask Liam why on earth would he like him is desperate to be fulfilled.

“I don’t-” Zayn swallows. “I don’t understand.”

Liam’s head tilts, his eyebrows scrunching. “Understand what?”

Balling the sheets in his fist, he frowns, breaks eye contact and whispers so quiet he’s almost unsure if he actually said the words aloud, “Why.”

Liam’s hand comes to his cheek, a soft touch, his fingers grazing his skin and thumbing across his cheekbones. “Why not?” Liam answers before leaning down, brushing his nose against his. Zayn’s short of breath, his eyes fluttering close and he thinks of what a simple answer he has just received. And he closes the small distance separating them.

“There’s so much hope for you, Zayn.” Liam mumbles once they pull back but barely a centimeter put between them. “I have so much hope for you.”

And no one has ever said that to him before. He’s heard something of the likes but they weren’t this certain, they didn’t possess so much belief and sincerity. No one but Harry has ever had hope for him.

And maybe… maybe they’re onto something.

 

::::::::

January 12.

Zayn use to resent this day for two reasons. 1) The thought of turning another age but remaining a slave to his own mind and 2) his birth. His resentment for his birth the stronger of the two, though. And though he doesn’t necessarily regret that day as much as he has in the past, he doesn’t quite look forward to it yet. And that’s why he doesn’t say anything to Liam about it.

Liam, being his boyfriend for only a day and a half, will feel the need to celebrate and Zayn really doesn’t want to go through the conversation of explaining why he’d much rather treat it as any other day.

But of course, Harry let it slip and Zayn doesn’t find out till the very day when he gets home from work and walks into his room, finding Liam sitting on his bed, the Xbox hooked up and playing Halo with a decorated bag sitting besides him.

“Liam…” He warns, eyeing the bag and crossing his arms.

But Liam stands with a smile on his face. “Babe, you’re finally home.” he crosses the distance, puts his hands on Zayn’s hips and pecks his lips. Zayn returns the chaste kiss but keeps a stern face. (it’s rather difficult too considering every time Liam kisses him he wants to squeal and do something ridiculous like braid Harry’s hair and gossip about how fit his boyfriend is).

“Who told you?” He presses.

“I was told not to give you that information but I can’t lie to that face.” He responds, reaching up to squeeze Zayn’s cheek. “Harry may have let it slip after you went to bed last night. But don’t be cross with him, he looked right petrified as soon as the words left his mouth.”

“Did he also tell you that I prefer not to celebrate?”

“He did indeed but I’m pretty certain that was only for his own benefit.” Zayn can agree with that. He’s sure Harry wishes to remain alive and mobile. Too bad.

“Then what’s that?” He asks, gesturing with his chin to the gift bag on his bed. Liam glances at it before grabbing Zayn by the hand and pulling him to the bed.

“Sit.” He commands and Zayn immediately follows his orders, upset on the outside but secretly interested on the inside. Liam grabs the bag and sets it on Zayn’s lap with a shy smile.

Zayn hesitates, squints his eyes at the bag before giving Liam a look and digging his hand into the bag. His fingers grasp an edge of something and he pulls it out. In his hands are two objects, a pack of fine pencils, erasers and charcoal and a sharp sketchbook. Zayn’s eyes widen as he sets the objects on his lap, brings the pencils close to his face and lets his eyes examine them. They’re not cheap, he can tell you that for a fact.

“It’s not much, just something to hopefully get you started, I suppose.” Liam speaks. “I just think it’d be a damn shame for you to give up on a dream simply because one person doesn’t agree with it.”

Zayn runs his fingers along the clean white pages of the sketchbook in awe, something about a blank paper always giving him the need to wreck it, fill it with something. Inspiration that he’s blocked out for far too long burst behind his eyes, flood his mind something like water spilling from an open dam and he suddenly questions himself on why he would ever let Nathan get to him, let himself give up on something so _him_.

He puts the gifts on the empty space beside him and takes Liam’s face in his hands, smashing their lips together. Liam responds immediately and Zayn cease to be surprised about that. “Thank you.” he breathes into Liam’s mouth, never breaking the kiss because he’s happy and Liam seems to know just what he needs when he doesn’t even know himself and that’s something amazing.

“You know, I also had other things in mind to celebrate this special day.” Liam tells him lowly, pushing his back onto the bed and his other hand comes to rub up the inside of Zayn’s thigh while he licks into his mouth and oh. _oh_.

Zayn feels it go right to his groin.

“If you want to, that is.” Liam adds and Zayn moans his responds, lets himself be urged up the bed. They’ve only been together for hardly two days but Zayn has wanted this since he first laid eyes on Liam five months ago and if Liam is willing then Zayn’s not about to give this chance up. (though it would likely present itself again in the future if he didn’t go through with it now.)

At the top of the bed, he encircles Liam’s neck and pushes deeper into the kiss as Liam continues to feel along his thighs and jesus, Zayn's thighs are his sensitive spot and he’s growing hard.

He’s nervous. Afraid even but not for reasons you’d expect, for reasons being; Liam will soon see him naked. And that terrifies him.

It’s everything he imagined and more. His insecurities only holding him back for a mere few minutes until Liam started murmuring compliments and endearments into his ear. Liam spent a good amount of time with preparation, probably taking more thrill and interest in it then Zayn even does. He wont complain though because it was sensational, the things Liam can with his fingers, having Zayn writhing against the sheets, biting back loud moans and threatening cries.

When Liam was finally done, he grew hesitant, scared of hurting him and Zayn could tell by his movements but he had reassured him and with a generous amount of lube, Liam had pushed into him with more confidence.

It was slow, the room filled with panting and heavy moans, Zayn’s leg hooked over Liam’s elbow for a better angle as he rocked into him with strong, powerful thrusts that had Zayn pressed into the mattress, gasping and his nails clawing at Liam’s back.

Zayn had waited to the very last minute, wanting this to stretch on as long as he can, before reaching for his dick but Liam had swatted his hand away and grabbed hold of him, rubbed him off and he came crying out Liam’s name and a few sloppy thrusts later Liam followed, kissing him hard and collapsing on top of him.

Liam climbs back into the bed after discarding the condom and they kiss slow and intimate. Zayn is warn out, exhausted from his day at work and being properly fucked and he’s a couple breathes away from slipping into sleep when Liam tangles their fingers and kisses the inside of both his wrists and it’s then that Zayn remembers the puffy marks. He only freezes for a second, whips his head around to stare at Liam because _wow_ , that’s some cliché shit straight out of a book but it still makes him feel like Liam does care, like perhaps, Zayn is worth something.

So he takes his much needed nap, wrapped up in Liam and when they wake, they shower and Harry takes the piss.

 

 ::::::::

 

**Epilogue:**

If you told Zayn one year ago that he’d be moving in with Liam Payne as more than friends, he’d give you a list of psychiatrists because obviously there was something wrong with you. But here he is, stacking his books and art supplies into a box and waiting for Liam to arrive so they can bring his stuff to Liam’s flat.

Seven months into their relationship.

It’s been a hell of a year and these 7 months have been the most memorable. He’s met Liam’s family, lovely people who treated him like family, he also met his friends back home, one bloke named Andy who was the most lively of all of them (that’s both a good thing and a bad thing, in Zayn’s book). He’s gotten into his art again much to Liam’s delight and even applied to Art Universities but that was mostly because of Liam’s convincing. He was accepted into a great Uni and he's starting next month.

Zayn’s happier now too, a lot happier. Harry even came up to him at one point, tears in his eyes as he hugged him tightly, talking about how good he looks these days, how happy he is that Zayn is smiling and laughing genuine again.

When Liam asked him to move in with him they where in the mix of an argument.

Zayn hates to admit but he can be a bit jealous sometimes but that comes from the fear of Liam finding someone better and leaving him. And during a night out, Liam was getting a little too cozy with some bloke. Now, Zayn is a pretty chill guy, he leans back and waits for shit to happen, he doesn’t go looking for trouble, if he’s in trouble it’s because it came to him, and that’s just what he did, he stood put on the bar stool with Niall beside him, letting it happen because he’s not one to stir shit. But then, this guy kisses Liam right on the temple, causing his boyfriend to laugh and ruffle the blokes hair and that’s _too_ far. So Zayn, tossing aside all pride and previous thoughts of _it’ll be over soon, Liam wouldn't do that to me_  and stalked towards the table.

He may or may not have made a bit of a scene and he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol considering he doesn’t drink (Liam doesn’t drink so he doesn’t, it’s his way of supporting and pleasing his boyfriend) and Liam had dragged him out of the club, Zayn talking shit the whole way.

Once outside Zayn had immediately reached for a fag, mumbling shit under his breath while Liam glared at him. It was announced that that bloke was Liam’s cousin and Zayn could honestly say he was ashamed. Liam had ranted at him for what felt like hours until Zayn started arguing back because Liam wouldn’t shut up. They were face to face, spewing words and pissing each other off more until they were so close the tension between them switched from anger to sexual and they went at each other like animals. Liam then proceeded to ask Zayn to move in with him to show him how dedicated he really was and _boom_ … here they are.

Zayn’s almost done packing all of his stuff, he’s in the closet now, searching the top shelf for anything he might have missed when his hands find a decent sized box in the far corner. He pulls it out in confusion and as soon as he recognizes it he drops it as if the thing had burned through his skin. He was frozen for a while, staring at the object on the floor before he finally crouches down and hesitantly takes off the lid. He nearly burst into tears when he realizes that the inside of the box has no effect on him at all. His heart doesn’t yearn or hurt, his mind doesn’t race and his hands don’t sweat. He’s fine. All he feels is regret, regret for wasting so many years on a piece of trash.

Slowly running his hands over the objects does have a bit of an effect on him though. Specially the few letters stacked on top of each other in the corner. Those letters that they passed each other in class or wrote each other at random times when things were good. Those have a small effect but nothing like longing or nostalgia, just fond memories. When Liam walks into his room, Zayn covers the box again and stands, glances at the lid and at Liam. He makes a decision.

“I need to go to Nathan’s flat.” He announces and the look on Liam’s face flashes from shock to confusion to anger to all of them at once.

“What?” he asks, scrunching his nose and looking at Zayn as if was speaking gibberish and not clear English.

“I need to go to Nathan’s flat.” he repeats with a determination in his voice. “I need to return this to him. Today.” _Today while I have the courage._

“What?” Liam repeats. “Wait, what even is that?”

Zayn takes a deep breath and speaks, “I use to torture myself with this, during our relationship and specially after. I need to bring this to him, most of this stuff is his anyway and I need it gone.”

Liam stays silent for a few beats, his mouth opening and closing many times before he finally looks at him and asks, “Does… does it still bother you?” And Zayn quickly realizes that Liam is scared. That he thinks Zayn might still have feelings for Nathan but _god_ , the only feelings Zayn has for Nathan is resentment and a little bit of hidden fear.

He places the box on the edge of his bed and walks to Liam, looks him square in the eye as he speaks, “Li, everything in that box means nothing to me and Nathan, he means less. Don’t worry, love, Nathan is the furthest thing from my mind. I know you wont understand but I need to bring this back to him. I guess maybe it’s like closure, like, I need to end that chapter in my life officially and I feel like, maybe this is the only way to do so. To forget the past completely and move on with my life, you know?”

Liam reaches down and clasps their hands, nods in understanding but there’s still a frown etched into his face so Zayn places his hand on Liam's cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch. “I love you, yeah? Trust me.” 

Liam smiles a little but there's still a worried glint in his eyes. “I love you too, I trust you." He reaches up to link his fingers with the ones Zayn has on his cheek and leans in for a quick peck. “I’ll take you but I have to go with you.” Liam tells him once they pull away. Zayn frowns. He doesn’t quite think that’s the best of ideas.

“I don’t know, Li, I don’t think that will go over well.”

Liam furrows his eyebrows, speaking sternly when he says, “I’m not letting you go alone.”

“I just think I should do this alone. If you come with me then Nathan will still think I’m weak, that I’m using you to protect myself.” Zayn reasons, using his pride as an excuse and Liam looks at him uncertain before sighing and saying, “I’ll stay in the hall but I’ll hide so Nathan doesn’t see me.”

Zayn contemplates this, he knows Liam isn't going to take no for an answer so he nods surrendering, “Fine but whatever he says, you have to promise not to do anything. I have to do this myself.”

"Deal. No promises if he goes to far though."

 

::::::::

 

Standing in front of Nathan’s flat door brings so many memories rushing back and he feels small, insecure again and maybe he shouldn’t do this, maybe this was the bad idea. He looks at Liam, finds him looking back with a small smile, mouthing “you can do this” and that’s enough to bring his confidence back because Liam is here, he believes in him and Zayn’s not alone anymore.

He breathes deeply before raising his fist and knocking on the door. There’s movement on the other side of the door and his hands are shaking as he watches the doorknob twist, the world slowing before his eyes.

“Zayn?” Nathan gasps, his voice gravely and a cigarette dangling between his lips. He looks the same but so different at the same time. Zayn use to think he was beautiful, strong and perfect with grey eyes and shaggy soft hair. He use to think the world of Nathan but now, looking at him he looks sad and petty, five o’clock shadow on his face and dead eyes.

Something flashes in those eyes though, something that Zayn could almost relate to happiness and relief but then it’s gone just as quick. “I would say I’m surprised but honestly, I knew you’d be back eventually. I see you’ve been eating lately, getting a bit of a belly there, mate. We're gonna have to work on that, yeah?”

He has a smug smirk on his face, one Zayn found hot at one point but now internally grimaces at. He doesn’t look at Liam, doesn’t want to gauge his reaction and holds eye contact with Nathan. Something he couldn’t do before.

“I just came here to give you this.” Zayn says, extending his arms and pushing the box into Nathan’s chest with enough force to surprise the both of them.

“And what exactly is this?” he asks, eyeing the box in his hands.

“Your shit.” Zayn answers harshly but keeping his face stoic. Nathan’s head snaps up, his eyes blazing and the cigarette between his lips crushing.

“You know I wont tolerate you speaking to me like that.” Nathan spits. “And what is this suppose to fucking mean? Giving me this shit? Is that really why you’re here?”

“Why else would I bother coming here.” he’s truly shocking himself by the strength in his tone and how brave he feels. A part of him wants to cower, runaway because he knows Nathan wont hesitate to make things physical but Zayn can handle himself and he knows if things get out of hand Liam will come in. He doesn’t want that but at least he knows he’s safe.

“When the fuck did you get so loose with the mouth, Zayn? I don’t like that lip, keep on and I might bust it.”

“Why don’t you just look through that box, Nathan.” He suggests, knowing even though Nathan's heart is ice, the contents of that box might chip it. “Think there’s some stuff in there that might interest you.”

“I’m not looking through this shit. Why don’t you come inside though, it’s clear you’ve lost your respect, maybe I can remind you who’s in charge here.”

Zayn grits his teeth, closes his eyes for a second before exhaling deeply and looking Nathan directly in the eyes. “You use to mean the world to me, you know, Nathan? Harry once told me I use to look at you like you created the sun and the moon and yeah, I suppose I did. I loved you a lot, even when you were knocking me unconscious, I still loved you. Or I thought I did, I think it was more fear in disguise towards the end and I know you get a hit out of that, right?”

Nathan’s expression is solid but Zayn can see the effect of his words weighing down on him in his eyes. “Looking at you now, I’m actually embarrassed to say that I was with you, that I use to love you. I’m disappointed and ashamed to say I spent three years letting you break me down. That I spent two years trying to get you to notice me prior.”

“Shut up.” Nathan hisses but Zayn hardly blinks an eye, just continues.

“We had good times too. Remember we use to eat at that ice cream shop after school and each time we'd get something different and you got sick because you decided hot sauce sounded like a good topping after i told you it was a bad idea? I had to take care of you that whole weekend. Or that one night we snuck into my neighbors backyard and went swimming and when we where caught we had to run to your house naked?” He laughs bitterly.

“Zayn, stop!” He grits and Zayn can take pride in the fact that he’s breaking Nathan down right now.

“You remember all the movie nights with my family? How they adored you? You remember baba gave you that expensive watch, calling you son and you cried in the car when we left because your father left when you where four? You know, he basically disowned me when I went home for Christmas and I didn’t bring you. He wouldn’t even look at me.” He sneers.

“You remember how we would take Safaa to the park and you’d push her on the swings and she called you bubba? I remember and I also remember you talking shit about them after they showed you the love your family didn’t!” His voice is raising and so is his anger. Nathan looks lost and angry and his eyes are wet.

“Shut the fuck up, you bastard!”

“You remember burning cigarettes in my skin whenever you caught me smoking? Or when you-”

“Stop!” Nathan screams. “Stop! You think I don’t remember that shit? Of course I remember, I think about it all the time! I think about you all the time! You think I don’t regret it all? Because I fucking do! I know I fucked up and I was awful to you. I regret telling you that your worthless and ugly because you’re not, you never were and your art? I love your art, Zayn, it was bloody amazing. I still have all my high school notebooks you doodled in during class and I look at them all the time! I was just jealous, okay? So fucking jealous and I’m so sorry… I wish I could take it all back.”

Zayn’s speechless now, his eyes wide and his body frozen as he watches Nathan crumble before his eyes. His fist unclench, his anger sizzling out as Nathan speaks.

“New years eve, when I saw you in that club… I thought- I thought things were going to be okay again. And we… we spent that night together but then you… you just left in the morning and I never saw you again.” Nathan’s in tears now and it’s so different from the Nathan Zayn is accustom too. He doesn’t know how to react but a part of him feels satisfied to see Nathan fall. "I miss you and i want things to be okay again."

“Nothing is going to be okay between us. Nothing was ever okay between us and I’m just here to saw goodbye.”

“But Zayn… I-I said I was sorry? And I meant it? Why are you doing this?”

“You were a part of a dark period in my past and I intend on leaving you there.” He tells him, standing strong and showing no pity. “I’m happy now, I’m in love and I know he’ll never hurt me the way you did. I’m done with you, Nathan, I moved on long ago. I hope you go through that box and it kills you, I hope it tears you to shreds like it did to me for so long. I hope you hurt for once and then i hope you recover and you move on yourself. I hope things turn out okay for you. And I hope I never see you again. Goodbye.”

Nathan looks shattered and Zayn thinks it’s very inappropriate to feel joy over someone’s misery but he also thinks it’s okay to feel that way when that person is Nathan. He gives Nathan one last look, commit’s the picture in front of him to his memory so he can look back one day and say he had the courage to stand up to someone he once feared.

And then he turns around, looks at Liam and feels an overwhelming burst of love and affection spread through his body. Liam smiles at him though the edges are a bit tight and he can tell that Liam’s been putting up a fight with himself this whole time.

Crossing the short distance between them, he takes Liam’s hand and they walk away. He can heard Nathan calling his name, explicates following because he’s noticed Liam and he’s angry but they ignore him and Zayn feels exuberant and huge and as if he can do anything in the exact moment.

In the car Liam says, “I don’t know how you put up with that prick. I wanted to throttle him the moment he opened his mouth. You’re lucky I have some self control but I’m telling you, another minute and I would have lost it.”

Zayn hears him but he isn’t exactly listening. He’s to busy asking himself if that really happened, if he really stood up for himself, if he really broke Nathan’s wall and his heart at the same time. He’s in a state of shock as he replays it all in his mind, every word said and every tear shed. It’s amazing and kind of sad but also satisfying and he feels invincible.

It’s like standing up to a bully, the pride and self-respect you get when they cower like you use too. It’s feels like when someone keeps telling you you’re wrong when you know for a fact that you are right and then you prove it and you just want to jump up and down and rub it in their face like a child.

He feels powerful.

“Hey, babe?” Liam nudges him, breaking from him from his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Zayn smiles, squeezes his hand and says, “Yeah, just a little dazed, 's all . Hard to believe that just happened, you know?”

“Yeah.” Liam agrees, lifting his hand to his lips and kisses the roof. “I’m proud of you.”

Zayn grins, leans forward and kisses his boyfriend. _Boyfriend_. And rests his forehead on his shoulder, still feeling breathless and amazed of the whole event.

“Now, let’s go get the rest of your stuff. I left Louis alone in my flat.” Zayn lifts his head quickly, his eyes wide.

“We better hurry.”

“Shit, if that tosser floods my flat again I’m so telling his mum what really happen to all of his Uni money. She’ll be furious that they had to spend all that extra money if she knew the truth.”

Zayn sits straight, his interest peaked because he knows how much Louis loves to avoid all things future and school related. “What did he do?”

Liam laughs, shakes his head and starts the car. “You’re going to love this story, babe. It’s great blackmail material.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, how was that? The smut, yeah i've only ever written smut once and i'm pretty sure it sucked. And then i've never written the blowjob before, i just skimmed through my memory and slapped together whatever I already knew. I hope i didn't sound stupid. But whatever, first time, there's my excuse. 
> 
> But yeah, lemme know what you lovely people thought! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!


End file.
